


After the Final Problem

by ChiefDoctor



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post TFP, Season/Series 04 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-09-28 08:19:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 65,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10081211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChiefDoctor/pseuds/ChiefDoctor
Summary: This is the story of Sherlock coming to terms with his traumatic childhood and Molly showing Sherlock that he is human, that he deserves love and that he is capable of so much more than he thinks he is.





	1. Own Personal Hell

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story that I have written for this fandom. I have long enjoyed reading everyone else's stories. The events of series 4 and more importantly of the last episode, 'The Final Problem' have given me inspiration. I hope to do the fandom justice.
> 
> Comments and kudos fill my muse's bucket pushing me to spend vast amounts of time dithering over word placement and story arc while ignoring the responsibilities of life. So please distract me.
> 
> *So according to Microsoft Word I vastly under use commas so they have been generously placed throughout this story. My high school English teacher will be so pleased!

His eyes popped open as he wakes with a start.  Without moving his head, he takes in the environment trying to figure out where he is.  As the familiar surroundings of the Watson home become apparent he lets out a breath and falls back against the sofa once more. 

As he stares at the ceiling he reminds himself why he is sleeping on John’s sofa and not his own bed back at Baker Street.  The place was still in a shamble from the drone bomb that Eurus set off.  ‘Eurus??’  That was a lot to take in.  He had a sister that less than 48 hours ago, he had no knowledge of. 

He swung his legs off the sofa and planted them on the floor.  With his elbows on his knees he rubbed his face trying to get some perspective on everything that had changed since the moment he found John lying on the floor at his therapist’s with a tranquilizer dart stuck in his neck.  He had a sister.  She was a true psychopath.  His brother had lied to him, to his parents …..for nearly his entire life.  He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.  His relationship with Mycroft had always been complicated but this took things to a whole other level.  In a matter of moments he relived each challenge she had put him through on that island…choosing who should kill the governor….choosing who he should kill John or Mycroft…Molly.

As his mind relived that phone call, he saw with such clarity the pain on her face.  It was the pain of a woman who had long loved him but he had given her nare a hope in return.  Then he all but gutted her in less than three minutes.  The break in her voice as she begged him not to do this to her struck him to his core.  It was as if he could feel what she felt at that moment and it threw him terribly off balance.  A fear gripped him as he tried to navigate this sea of emotions that he had been quite successful (up until now) in keeping under control.  What Eurus put him through on that island unleased a lifetime of forgotten memories and all of the emotions that came with them.  It was like he could feel for the first time in his life.  As he considered it, it was probably the first time in his adult life his emotions were leading his thoughts. 

His mind went from the phone call to his reaction to it.  When he realized how Eurus had manipulated him into breaking Molly’s heart, while opening his own, a rage had overtaken him.  That is when he had begun to pound his fists against that coffin and the more he did it the more he could not stop.  He could not stop until it was destroyed, until the thought of Molly dying was extinguished.   He remembers the despair he felt as he fell against the wall and slid to the floor.  Her face, her voice, he could not erase it from his mind.  What had paralyzed him was the fear that she must now certainly hate him.  He knew he couldn’t blame her for that as he hated himself right now as well.

At that moment, John popped into the lounge with Rosie in his arms.  “So, you’re awake are you?  Want some tea?”

Sherlock peered over his hands ready to sneer at John until he saw the bright bubbly face of his goddaughter, Rosie smiling back at him.  His angsty heart melted a bit at the sight of her sweet face and he nodded to John.  Rising he added, “yes, thank you.  I’ll just go freshen up if you don’t mind.”  He made his way to the restroom on the first floor as John shuffled back into the kitchen.

After taking care of business he stared at himself in the mirror.  He looked the same but yet he felt completely altered.  He’d almost expected for someone completely different to be staring back at him from the mirror.  It was at that moment that he realized he was still wearing his Belstaff.  Looking down at it he felt confused as to why but then he remembered stumbling into John’s place after that long car ride from Musgrave and immediately flopping onto the sofa.  He must not have moved all night long.

That in itself was surprising since even after being up for days for a case when he slept he was usually all over the bed and tangled within the sheets when he woke.  There was so much different about him this morning and so much he still didn’t understand.  The growl in his stomach reminded him that John and Rosie were waiting for him in the kitchen.  So, he headed that way stopping to hang his coat on the peg by the door.

John was tending to a fry-up with his back to him when he entered the cozy kitchen.  Propped in her high chair, Rosie was busy throwing cheerios to the floor but stopped briefly to shove one into her mouth.  That seemed to delight her as she popped in another while watching carefully as she let go of the round cereal, her eyes following it to the floor.  Sherlock studied her from the doorway realizing for the first time that she did understand cause and effect.  She was just fascinated by it….it made him smile.  As he slid into his seat beside her John turned away from the hob.  “That tea is for you.” He pointed with his spatula at the tea on the table near him.

He nodded in acknowledgement before bringing it to his lips.  It tasted like heaven.  He was uncertain why.  It wasn’t like it was unusual for him to go days without much in the way of food or drink when he was on a case but this seemed so completely different.  He felt different.  Looking over to John he was about to ask him …..something but he couldn’t.  John was in his own sort of hell trying to move on from Mary’s death.  He couldn’t burden him with his emotions too.

That was new, Sherlock thinking about others.  His eyes shifted back to Rosie.  Her cheeks were blush with the merriment she was having with her breakfast.  Observing her while he sipped his tea it brought him some peace, a freedom from the unsettling thoughts that had rushed in as soon as he had awakened.

John brought over their plates, placing Sherlock’s in front of him, then sitting down on the opposite side of the table with Rosie between them.  He looked at the floor and frowned as it was now littered with crunchy cereal.  “Rosie, why must you get it all over the floor?”  He asked exasperated.

“She likes to experiment.” Sherlock said almost immediately wincing at the word experiment.  Quickly adding as he faced her, “you just like to see what happens when you let go, don’t you?”  Rosie seemed to understand as he spoke.  She smiled at him while holding her little hand out letting another cheerio drop over the side of the tray.

“Don’t encourage her Sherlock.” John admonished as he tucked into his breakfast. 

“Why not?  How else will she learn?”  John just scowled at him playfully and continued with his breakfast.

Sherlock finally turned to his food and was surprised by the immediate hunger he felt.  Quickly he too tucked into the eggs, bacon, potatoes, and toast.  He didn’t stop until it was completely gone.  Looking up from his plate he saw an astounded John staring back at him.  “What?” he said as he reached for his tea.

John shook his head in disbelief, “Oh nothing.  I’ve just never seen you eat like that before…even when you’ve spent days on a case sustained only by tea.”

Sherlock glanced at his empty plate and shrugged.  What could he say even he didn’t understand what was going on with him but he definitely _felt_ different.  John picked up some of the cereal from around Rosie’s highchair and placed them back on her tray.  Turning to Sherlock he asked, “So what now?”

He just stared back at him.  ‘What now?’  That was his thought exactly but there seemed to be so many things that he should be attending to he wasn’t sure where to begin: his sister- _can’t_ , his parents- _not yet_ , Mycroft- _no_ , Molly- _definitely no_ , Mrs. Hudson….  “Baker Street.”  He announced after rummaging through his mind palace for a suitable starting point.  “Baker Street will need to be sorted out sooner rather than later.”

John nodded in agreement.  “You want me to come with?”  He asked still trying to navigate their new footing after….well after Mary, the drugs, and Eurus.  John had a lot to process too but right now he was quite worried about his friend.  Sherlock seemed off, really off and that was saying something for him.

As he got up he picked up his plate taking it to the sink, “No John, not right now.  Your daughter needs you.”  They both looked at Rosie and smiled softly.  “Another time, perhaps?”  He turned to go but rapidly turned back catching John before he rose from his seat.  “Thank you.”  Then he was off.

It wasn’t until he heard the front door shut that he registered that Sherlock Holmes just thanked him.  ‘Whatever is this world coming to?” he said to Rosie.  When he took his own plate, and saw Sherlock’s already there he just turned to stare towards the door wondering what demons his friend was currently wrestling with.

After cleaning up Rosie he took her into the lounge laying her on her blanket with an assortment of toys.  While putting on the song DVD she loved so much it reminded him of another DVD, the one Mary had sent Sherlock.  She asked him to go to hell for him, to save John, and he did.  Ironically, he may have created that hell to challenge John to come save him but he needn’t bothered as his own personal Hell was dished up for him quite spectacularly.

o0oOOo0o

 


	2. Too Much Damage

As he left John’s he fingered his phone ready to call up a cab when he decided against it.  He needed to walk.  Walking always helped him to think when something was troubling him.  For a case, he liked quiet, solitude but for personal introspection he preferred to walk with anonymous people around.  It was going to be a warm day he realized as the sun shone down on him.  He might even need to remove his Belstaff but for now he needed to feel its protection, its armour from all that swirled around him.

As he walked in the general direction of Baker Street he tried to remember his childhood.  He tried to remember Eurus being there.  It was Victor whose face he first saw again.  Victor with his shiny red hair, and his slightly plump stomach was always happy to play pirates.  He loved them as Sherlock did.  When they weren’t pretending to be pirates they were reading about them or writing their own stories.  As his feet took him closer to home he remembered how inseparable he and Victor had been.  Mycroft was gone at school most of the time and he was all alone.  But he wasn’t all alone, was he?  Eurus was there….wasn’t she?? 

It was the sound of screaming that stopped him in his tracks and then he found himself grasping for the nearest lightpole trying to catch his breath.  It was at that moment that he realized the scream had come from him.  ‘How could he have deleted his own sister?  Yes, she had done a terrible thing….things but she was still his sister.  And Victor…..he turned him into a dog.  What does that say for how he thought of his friend?’  Frustrated he heard himself scream aloud again before turning abruptly away from the lightpole.  He stopped dead when he came face to face with the crowd of people staring back at him.  He didn’t have time for their petty hero worship so he took off in a run, pushing them aside as he barreled on through.  It was three blocks before he stopped, his hands dropping to his knees so he could catch his breath.  “Home.” He heard himself say.  He needed to get home.

It was ten more minutes before he caught sight of Baker Street.  When he got closer to his door he faltered at seeing the yellow tape still flapping where it closed off areas that were unsuitable for the public.  Stopping he surveyed up and down the building.  There was a large hole where once the windows to his flat had been.  As if watching a film, he remembered he and John jumping for their lives through those windows.  For not the first time he wondered how that could only have been two days ago?

He made his way across the street and fished his keys from his pocket.  It seemed so quiet this day on Baker Street.  Speedys was closed so there was little foot traffic and it seem so eerily wrong.  He no sooner stepped in the entrance when Mrs. Hudson came scurrying out of her flat.  “Oh Sherlock!” she exclaimed.  Before he could protest she’d pulled him into her arms and he found he didn’t want to protest.  He just held her close for a few minutes until tears threatened his eyes and he had to pull away.  “Come we’ll have tea.  I want to know all the parts your mother left out.”

“My mother?” He stuttered as she was already heading into her flat.

“She called me earlier to let me know what had transpired but it didn’t sound like the whole story.”  She turned when she realized he wasn’t following her.  “Well, come on.  I made biscuits.”  He ran his fingers down his face wondering if he was ready to face this yet.  But she wasn’t giving him a choice…clever her.  So, he trailed after her into her kitchen and sat in the chair she pointed to. 

After they were settle with tea and freshly made chocolate biscuits she asked, “So what really happened Sherlock?”

He sipped his tea and made a grab for a biscuit.  He knew she would know he was stalling but he wasn’t quite sure how to begin.  Clever her helped him out again.  “So why don’t we start with why I have gaping hole in my house?”

“Ah yes, sorry about that Mrs. Hudson.”  He actually looked contrite as he said it and she wondered if she was wrong.

“Sherlock was this one of your experiments gone wrong? Mycroft said it was a bomb when he hustled me out the back door.”

He stared down at his tea.  “No Mycroft was telling you the truth.  It was definitely a bomb…….sent to us by our sister.”

“Your sister?  Now this is where I’m confused because I’ve never heard you mention a sister, nor your mother.” 

Keeping his head down he snuck a peek of her through his curls.  “Well you wouldn’t have, at least not from me.  You see…..apparently I deleted her or rewrote her …..or something.  Until yesterday I had not remembered her existence.”

His hands remained on his tea cup as he tentatively looked up to gauge her reaction.  She seemed worried and confused.  “You deleted her?  You can do that?  Just delete us from that brain of yours?”

“I suppose but maybe only after they inflict untold harm upon me first.”  He tried to be flippant but it came off rather pathetically.

“Yes, your mother said.  Something about another little boy….what was his name?”

“Victor.”

“Yes, Victor.  He was your friend?”

“Yes…he …he was my best friend.  We liked playing pirates together.  Apparently, Eurus was jealous that I would play with him instead of her so she put him in a well……where we just found him yesterday.”

Mrs. Hudson gasped, “Oh my god Sherlock!”  She reached out taking his hand in hers holding on tightly. 

He held onto her as well.  “Yeah.” He breathed.  They sat there in silence for the longest time just holding on, letting their tea get cold.

After what seemed like forever he finally coughed and pulled his hand from hers while getting up.  “I should probably get upstairs and see what can be salvaged.  Don’t worry about a thing, Mycroft will take care of it.  It’s the least he owes you.”  After putting his cup in the sink, he headed for the door.

“Sherlock?”

“Yes”, he said turning towards her.

“Let me know if you need anything.”

He smiled at her.  “Of course, Mrs. Hudson.”  Then he headed out of her flat and up the stairs.

As she heard his feet on the stairs she began to tidy up.  That’s when she noticed that he had put his cup in the sink.  In all the years she had known him he had never put his cup in the sink.  She was always fussing at him about not being his housekeeper.  Looking down at that cup she couldn’t help to wonder what it meant.

o0oOOo0o

As he ascended the seventeen steps to 221B he started to relax….home.  He was coming home.  He stopped short at the threshold of his flat.  The sun shone in brightly through the large hole that was once his wall, papers were everywhere, furniture was upturned, charred…..in short it looked like a bomb had gone off in there.

The joy of coming home was short-lived when he realized that his home was no more.  Shuffling forward he automatically took off his coat hanging it on the hook by the door.  Then he carefully started walking over the debris that was once his home searching for something that wasn’t broken, charred, or useless.  Beneath an array of books, he saw the neck of his violin poking out.  His heart sank….it wasn’t in it’s case.  He had little hope.  To his amazement, it only had a few scratches and one broken string.  The bow had been snapped though so he would not be able to play.   Cradling it to his chest he continued to walk around cataloging the damage.

It was finally too much, too much damage to his home, to him.  He felt overwhelmed taking it all in and fell against the wall, sliding down it, laying his violin at his side.  He’s not sure how long he sat there just staring at the charred remains of his flat feeling that somehow it was a metaphor for his life in general.  It was Mrs. Hudson who woke him from his stupor.

“Sherlock?  Are you alright?”  He turned in her direction, seeing the worried look on her face.  He wanted to reassure her so she wouldn’t worry anymore but honestly, he wasn’t sure he could.

“My life is shite!” He said as he went back to staring at his destroyed flat.

She came over to where he sat and joined him on the floor.  “Yeah, it looks a lot worse from down here.”

He looked at her as she smirked back at him and he broke into laughter.  It was a rather hysterical laugh but he needed it.  ‘God, when was the last time he laughed?’

She leaned against him and patted his arm.  “It will be alright Sherlock.  Sure, it’s going to take some time (and money) but we’ll make it right again.  You’ll see.”  She assured him.

“…..and my life?” He asked her with all the weight such a sentence might carry.

“Your life has always been a bit shite Sherlock; maybe this is an opportunity to make it better.”  His eyes stare down at her unable to believe she just called his life shite.

“I beg your pardon?  How can you call my life shite?  I’m the world’s only consulting detective and quite good at it, I have my own personal blogger who has made me internationally famous, people call on me night and day to solve their cases, Scotland Yard would be lost without me.”

“And you’re alone.”  She put out there without preamble.  “You live your life alone Sherlock.  I know that you have made a few friends these past few years but they are just a means to an end for you, aren’t they?”

Turning away from her he stared out into the room again.  That is who he _was,_ using everyone, even those closest to him:  John, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson,  Molly.  ‘Molly?’  He couldn’t stop it now….that phone call, her tears, the break in her voice as he begged her to say those words that he knew would hurt her.  He didn’t want to see her face as she begged him not to make her do that, not that.  She’d turned the table on him making him say it first.  He would do anything to save her even say words he didn’t mean if it meant saving her.  But………..

“Molly.”  He whispered.

“What Sherlock?”  He’d forgotten Mrs.Hudson was still there as his mind had whirled on all that had transpired with Molly in less than three minutes.  The longest three minutes of his life.

“Molly.”  He said again.

“What about Molly?  Oh no!  Has she been hurt too?”  She raised her hand to her mouth hoping against hope it wasn’t true.

“Yes…I mean no ……well, actually yes.”  He stammered, his voice unable to hold steady.

She turned to him and pulled at his arm.  “What has happened to that dear girl, Sherlock?  You tell me this instant.”

Slowly he raised his sad eyes to hers and said, “Me.”

o0oOOo0o


	3. Because They Were True

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read this far. I really appreciate it and would love your feedback.

“What do you mean you?”  Her voice wavered with concern.

He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes and began to tell her what happened.  “Eurus had taken over the prison she’d been in since childhood.  She decided to have her fun with me, Mycroft, and John.” He felt her hand rest against his arm as a form of comfort and he found that he welcomed it.  “The first challenge was for me to decide who should kill the governor of the prison:  John or Mycroft.”

At that she gasped, “My God!”

“Eurus had his wife tied up and said she would kill her unless we killed the governor.  Mycroft refused.  He doesn’t like to get his hands dirty.  So that left it to John.  John tried but couldn’t go through with it even though the governor begged him to kill him and spare his wife.  In an attempt to save his wife, the governor shot himself but it was no use Eurus shot his wife anyways.”

“Oh my God, Sherlock.  This is your sister?”  She sounded appalled.

“Yeah, fun family I have don’t you think?  And you thought I was the crazy one!”  He laughed mirthlessly.

“Never crazy.”  She assured him.  When he looked at her as if questioning her sanity.  “Well maybe ….a bit eccentric.”  He smiled at her bending over to kiss her forehead.  She always was his champion.

After a few quiet moments, she asked, “So what happened next?”

He sat back up as he recanted how she gave him a case with three possible suspects and very little clues to deduce who the killer was.  The thing was she was going to execute whomever he decided was the killer.  In the end, it didn’t matter since she killed all three of the brothers anyways.

“The whole time she was doing these things there was this little girl on an airplane where everyone but her was passed out.  She needed me to help her but Eurus would only let me talk to her for a few minutes after each challenge.  I had to keep going there was an entire plane of people counting on me…so I thought.”

“So you thought?”

He waved away any further explanation for now.  “The next room we were lead into…”  His breath hitched as he saw the coffin laid before him again and he deduced who it had to be for.  “It had a coffin in it, a small coffin, one that would fit a petite woman about 5 ft. 3 in.  I deduced that it had to be for Molly.”  He could feel his heart beating faster in his chest and perspiration began at his temple.  I had no idea what Eurus had planned then Mycroft found the lid on the coffin with words inscribed.” He rubbed his hands up and down his face as he tried to get through this once more.

Quietly she asked, “What words?”  

“I love you.” He intoned as if in a dream state.

“What? Why?”  Mrs. Hudson couldn’t stop from asking.

“Because that is what she wanted me to make her say.”

“Molly?”

“Yes, she told me that she had rigged her flat with explosives and that if I could not get her to tell me she loved me in three minutes that she would set them off.”

Mrs. Hudson looked at his face.  It was like he wasn’t really there with her but back reliving this nightmare all over again.

“But you saved her.  Right?”

He shook his head staring at his scarred hands in his lap.  “I saved her life yes but then it never was in danger in the first place.  It was all part of Eurus game to compromise me emotionally.”

“But you saved her Sherlock.”  She tried to assure him.

“I broke her Mrs. Hudson.  I’ll never be able to get that image out of my mind of what I did to her in less than three minutes.  The person who saved me more times than I can count I broke into a million pieces.”

“How?”

“I made her say it.”

There was a silence between them for a moment while they both thought about what that meant.

“I was desperate.”  He began again. “I would have said or done anything to get her to say those three words.  She begged me not to.  She said she couldn’t ………because they were true.”  He leans forward rubbing his face with his hands.  “But I couldn’t stop.  I couldn’t let her die….not her.  So I did what she asked.  I said it first.”

“Said what?” He just looked at her until it came to her.  “Oh…..OH MY!”

“Yeah…” he breathed.

“So what now?” She questioned.

“So then I..” but she cut him off.

“No, not what happened there.  What are you going to do now?  About Molly?”

“Now?”  He looked at her confused, unsure, and for the first time ever scared as hell.

“Have you seen her yet since you got back?”  She watched him carefully.  Sherlock Holmes wasn’t the only person with deductive skills at Baker Street.

He curled his shoulders inward trying to make himself small.  “No.” is all he could say but it was the voice that he said it in that caught her attention.  It was almost childlike.  He was afraid, afraid that he had lost her forever.  Well it’s a good thing he still had her.

“Well then young man you need to get yourself over to her place right this minute!”  She laid out in no uncertain terms.

Sputtering, he said “No, I can’t…. She wouldn’t want…. I’ve ruined………………”

“You’ve ruined nothing …..yet.  But if you keep your distance and don’t go talk to her quite soon there may be no way to repair your relationship.”

“I wouldn’t know what to say.”  He whined.

“You’ve already said it.”  He looked up at her confused by what she meant.  “Now you just have to convince her it was the truth.”

“How?  How do you know that?”

“My dear boy I’ve known since the first time I ever saw the two of you in a room together.”

“That can’t be..” he sputtered, “I only figured that out myself yesterday.”

“Nobody ever said you were a genius about everything.  That’s why you’ve got me!”  She pointed to herself and he smiled.

“You think it’s that easy?”  He ventured.

“Easy?  I never said it was going to be easy.  No, I imagine it will be incredibly hard for both of you but in the end I think you both will realize what is important and that is each other.”  She gave him a few moments to gather his thoughts together before she asked, “Are you ready?”

He let out a long sigh as he pulled himself off the floor.  He turned to her offering to help her up as well.  “Any other advice?” He asks before readying himself to face Molly.

“Well considering what she does for a living I’d keep her away from sharp objects if I was you.”  He laughed and she raised up to give him a kiss on the cheek.  “You deserve love Sherlock and she is perfect for you.  Let yourself love her.”  He could feel the pricks of tears at the corners of his eyes again and he dragged her into a hug. 

When he pulled away he swiftly made for the stairs.  Over his shoulder, he shouted, “I’ll get Mycroft on the repairs immediately.”

She watched him go then turned to survey the disarray that was once Sherlock’s flat.  “I just hope your heart can be repaired as easily as this flat can be.”  She whispered before heading back to her own flat.

o0oOOo0o


	4. The Truth about I love you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit long but there wasn't a good place to break it up but we finally get Molly and Sherlock in the same room. Enjoy and let me know what you think in the comments.

On his way, he got a text from Mycroft that all of the cameras had been removed from Molly’s flat and that there definitely were no explosives in there.  He sighs with relief thanking Mycroft then reminds him that Mrs. Hudson would like her building repaired.

When he gets to her flat the agents are just leaving.  They too assure him that it is clean of any explosives and surveillance equipment.  He nods his appreciation and enters her flat.

At first, he just stands in the middle of the lounge breathing it in.  He starts to remember all the times he had been there whether in need of medical attention, or a bolthole to think, or just her company.  It’s her face he remembers most from those memories.  How she would look at him so happy to see him, to help him, to be there for him.  Why?  ‘Because she loves you’ he heard mind palace John tell him. 

“Yes, but does she now?  After all I’ve put her through?”  He says out loud.  There is only silence as his answer.

When he starts to look around he realizes what a mess Mycroft’s agents made in making sure she was safe.  He doesn’t want her to come home to this so he starts tidying up.  It takes him hours as they had torn up the entire flat in their quest to be thorough. 

He’s not sure what to do.  Glancing at his phone he’s sure it will be at least another couple of hours before she gets home.  He considers leaving but go where.  He didn’t want to go to John’s – there would be too many questions.  Mycroft didn’t need him underfoot, he had enough to deal with and besides mummy was still in town.  He thought it best to stay put.

Sitting on the sofa he pulled up Angelo’s number asking him to make Molly’s favorite meal and bring it by about 7pm.  With that settled he lies back with his feet up planning to spend some time in his mind palace sorting things out.

His body had other plans however as he quickly fell asleep from the physical and mental exhaustion of the past few days.

o0oOOo0o

Molly’s day had been long and shite.  Why did today of all days did her assistant have to call in sick?  She had five autopsies plus all the paperwork that entailed and she was exhausted.  Luckily only the first two were police cases so the paperwork for the others could wait till tomorrow.  She just wanted to curl up on the sofa with Toby, a bottle of wine, and watch some crap telly.  She hoped it would be enough to keep thoughts of Sherlock from overtaking.  She’d already spent enough time crying over that bastard.

Opening the door to her flat she was immediately faced with the prone form of one Sherlock Holmes spread out on her sofa.  His hands were clasped across his middle.  This wasn’t the first time she’d walked into her home to find him lying there rummaging around in his mind palace trying to solve his latest case.  But not today.  Not after yesterday.  He didn’t get to just use her place as if that phone call never took place.

She marched over to the sofa standing right next to him.  “Sherlock get out!” She shouted.  He didn’t seem to hear although he had scrunched up his nose a bit.  She started to think how adorable that was when she caught herself, ‘no I’m mad at him.’  She tried again, this time louder.  “Sherlock get out!”  When she shook him she added, “Now!”

This woke him from his stupor and he opened his eyes to see her standing over him.  “Molly!” He whispered.

“Yes, Molly.”  She retorted.  “Now get out!”

His eyes opened further as he was finally awakening.  He sat up and she stepped back away from him.  He rubbed his eyes pushing the sleep out of them then stretched his arms over his head.  He was actually quite surprised that he had fallen asleep.  His sleepy state may have been why he forgot why Molly would be mad at him.  When he uttered, “Why?” she lost it.

“Why?  You have the gall to ask me why?  After what you put me through yesterday for a case?  Get out, Sherlock!  Now!!”  Her face was contorted, her brow knitted tightly together and her eyes were piercing through him as sharply as the scalpels she wields.

Her words struck him as forcibly as if her hand had made contact with his cheek.  He remembered now why she would hate him on sight and why she would throw him out of her flat.  He knew this was possible but she needed to know why he did what he did and more importantly what it made him realize.

He began.  “Molly I understand you’re upset about that phone call but let me explain.”

“Explain!  No, Sherlock there is nothing you could say that would make what you did to me ok.  Get out!”  He nodded at her slowly getting up from the sofa.  She stepped further back to let him pass.

He surprised her by stopping in front of her, much closer than he would normally stand.  Hesitantly he raised his hand to her cheek and watched as her eyes slowly shut as she leaned into his touch.  Nearly at a whisper he said, “Even if it was true?”

Her eyes went wide and pain spread across her face again.  “How dare you Sherlock!  How dare you throw that back at me.  You know how I feel about you.  You’ve always known.  There isn’t any reason good enough for you to have forced me to say that to you.  Get out!”  Her heart was pounding and she was furious, more furious than that day she found him high in the lab.

He saw her fury and took a step back out of slap range.  A quick survey of the lounge appeased him that there weren’t any sharp objects nearby as he remembered Mrs. Hudson’s warning.  He looked her straight in the eyes when he finally said, “Even if it was to save your life?”

“What?  Sherlock, enough.  I’ve had enough of your games.”  She looked defeated.  The brave front she had put on to confront him seemed to have drained her of her energy and she just looked tired.  “I need you to leave Sherlock.”  She said as she dropped to the chair behind her.  Leaning forward she massaged her temples trying desperately to push the headache away that had been threatening all day.  She hadn’t slept much last night, and then today was long and hard.  She really didn’t need this right now.

He looks her over and deduces how difficult today had been at work on top of all that he and Eurus put her through yesterday.  He could leave and give her her space but he remembers Mrs. Hudson’s words: _‘But if you keep your distance and don’t go talk to her quite soon there may be no way to repair your relationship_.’

So instead of leaving he shuts the door that she left open and heads for the kitchen.  Quickly he puts together tea with a few stale biscuits that he found in the cupboard.  When he brings it back and sets it on the table her head pops up from where she was holding it between her hands.  “Sherlock?  You’re still here?”  She looks from him to the door.  “I thought you left.”

He pours her tea then hands her her cup.  “I considered it ….for a moment but I was afraid if I did that you would never let me back in again.”

Sipping her tea, she scoffs, “Like I could keep you out – you’d just pick the lock!”

“I wasn’t referring to your flat Molly.”  He states calmly while trying to keep his teacup steady.  He’s never done this before.  He’s not sure how to not mess it up.

Puzzled she looks at him trying to figure out what it is he’s talking about.  “Sherlock, honestly I’m too tired for this.  Can’t we talk about this later?”

He could be wrong.  He wishes he could consult John before proceeding but he’s pretty sure if they don’t get through this tonight there will always be something in their way. 

He puts his teacup back on the tray and places his hands near his chin in what most refer to as his thinking pose.  “Molly yesterday I was so afraid.”  This caught her attention and her eyes finally left her tea cup to find his.  “I was so afraid and then I heard your voice.  You always calm me.  When I was away those two years sometimes I would call just to hear your voicemail.”

“That was you – all those hangups?”  He nodded.  “Of course.  I thought I had a stalker, you idiot.”

“I guess you did.”  He smirked.

“Ha ha”, she smirked back.

“Why did you call me yesterday Sherlock?”  Ok, if they were going to do this she was going to get some answers.

“Because a psychopath told me I had to or they would blow up your flat.”  He stated flatly.

She squirmed.  “So, this _was_ for a case then?”

“Not exactly.  The psychopath is my sister.”

Her eyes went wide.  “Sherlock, you don’t have a sister.” She stated firmly.

“You only think that because I thought that.”

Exasperated she exclaimed, “What?  Stop talking in riddles.”

He sat up leaning his arms against his legs so he could keep her face in his eyesight.  “Apparently I do.  Her name is Eurus, she’s a year younger than me but until yesterday I had no memory of her.  It seems I ….deleted her.”

“You deleted her?  A sister?  You deleted your sister from your memory?  Why on earth would you do such a thing?”  She couldn’t believe it.  He deleted his sister.  If it was that easy to delete a family member, then what chance did she have.

“I don’t know for certain since I don’t remember doing it but I think it’s all tied in with Redbeard.”

“Your dog?  Your deleted your sister because of your dog?” 

He really wasn’t explaining this very well and he wished John were here to help him.  He took a deep breath to continue.  “As it turns out Redbeard wasn’t a dog afterall…..he was my best friend Victor Trevor.  He and I used to play pirates.  I was YellowBeard and he was RedBeard.”

“Why would you remember him as a dog?  Are we really that low on your list?”

“What? NO!  Again, I’m not sure how that happened but I have my suspicions that Mycroft was involved somehow.”

“Mycroft?” 

He waves his hand to indicate nevermind.  “Victor was my best friend.  We did everything together.  Eurus didn’t like that she was being ignored so she hid Victor …..in a well.”

“Oh!”  Molly exclaimed.

“and we didn’t find him until yesterday.”  Sherlock finished.

“Oh my God!”  She gasped.  Sherlock are you serious?”  He only nodded.

“That had to have been incredibly difficult for you to have found out.”

“Yes.” He coughed.  “It was.”  A moment later he added.  “I still need to talk with Victor’s parents.  They never knew what happened to him.”

She didn’t know what to say to that.  There was a time she would offer to go with him but she can’t keep doing that: taking care of him at the expense of herself.  Several minutes passed with him seemingly lost in his thoughts.

When she couldn’t wait any longer she asked, “So why did your sister want to blow me up?  I’ve never even met her.  Have I?”

“Not that I’m aware…well actually sort of.  Remember the therapist that John was seeing when you came with the ambulance?”

“Um, sort of …..no, not really.”  She decided.

“Well, that was her.”  He stated flatly.

“That was her?  Your sister was John’s therapist?”

“Sort of.”  His hand twisting back and forth to express his uncertainty.  “She locked the real therapist in a closet and took her place.  Luckily she was only drugged.”

“Ok…… so again why did she want to blow me up?”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he began.  “It wasn’t so much she wanted to blow you up as she wanted to toy with me…..with my emotions …………..for you.”

“Emotions….for me?  You don’t have emotions for me.”

“Molly, how can you say that?  We’re friends.  We’ve been friends for years.  You let me stay at your flat.  I let you kill me.  Who else would I let do that?” 

“This isn’t funny Sherlock!”  She barked at him.

“No, you’re right.  I’m sorry.  This is just terribly difficult for me and I’m so afraid that I’m going to cock it up and that you won’t ever speak to me again.”

“Cock what up?”

“The truth.”  “The truth about I love you.”  He said slowly watching her every twitch.  What he wasn’t expecting was for her to explode at him, again.

“How dare you!  You bastard!!  I can’t believe you’re going to sit here and make fun of me and how I feel about you. You…..”

Before she can get any further he falls before her where she sits and grabs her hands as he was certain she was pulling back for a slap.  “I meant my I love you.”  He beseeched her to hear. 

She stilled in his grasp, no longer trying to break free of him, “What?” 

“I love you.”  He said again, his eyes locked with hers.  Pulling her closer he put his arms around her, her hands against his chest.  “I love you Molly Hooper, truly.”  He finally said as he smiled at her.

She was unable to speak.  Her mouth resembled a fish opening and closing but nothing came out.  His eyes lit up that she was truly taken by surprise by his declaration.  Of course, then so was he so now they’re even.

They probably would have stayed that way for hours with their eyes locked onto one another but at that moment there was a knock on the door.  Sherlock became aware first, “Oh that must be Angelo.”  He stated as he went to get the door.

‘What?!? Angelo?  Why would Angelo be here?’  She was so confused but she definitely could smell Angelo’s pasta wafting through the room.  She looked around to see Sherlock dishing up the food onto the plates at the table.  ‘Was the table already set?’  Slowly she got up from the seat and made her way to the table.  It was at that moment that she realized she had never taken off her coat.  Turning to the left she took it off and hung it on the peg by the door.  As she did her hand caressed his Belstaff next to hers.  It made her smile.

When she sat down she realized he had ordered her favorite meal at Angelos’.  “You order Lasagna Bolognese?” She seemed surprised.

“Yes, it’s your favorite.  Isn’t it?”  He was sure he remembered correctly.

“Yes, it is but not yours.  Why didn’t you order your favorite as well?”  He tried to hide his embarrassment.

“Well, to be honest I wasn’t sure if I’d still be here by this point.  If I wasn’t going to eat it, I wanted to be sure it was what you liked best.”  She blushed at the idea.

She took her first bite and savored the taste of Angelo’s pasta.  “You set the table too.  When did you do that?”  She asked, rather curious of his answer.

He absently said, “After I’d finished tidying up earlier.”

She nearly choked on her lasagna.  “You tidied up?”

He looked at her concerned, “Yes.”

“Sherlock, I’m not that messy.”  She protested.

“No, you’re not but Mycroft’s agents are.”  He shoved in another bite of lasagna realizing he hadn’t eaten since early this morning.  He looked up when he heard her fork drop to her plate.

“Mycroft’s agents were in my flat?”  She asked alarmed.

“Ye-es.”  He answered calmly because quite honestly the look on her face was scaring him.

“Why?”

“Um, the surveillance cameras and we wanted to be absolutely sure there really weren’t any explosives on the premises.”

She pushes back from the table and stares at him.  “Explosives?”  She squeaked out.

He puts down his fork giving her his full attention.  “There were no explosives.  She was just bluffing.”

She nods numbly.  “But there were cameras?”  He nods back.  “Where?”

“I’m not sure exactly I didn’t ask but I know for sure in the kitchen.”  Woodenly her head turns in the direction of the kitchen.

“How do you know they were in the kitchen?”  She asks staring towards her kitchen.

Carefully he says, “Because that’s where you were when I called you.”

Her head whips in his direction.  “How do you know that?  How could you know that?”

Cautiously he states, “Because I could see you.  She showed me on the monitors.”

“So, you could see me the whole time?  You could see how this was killing me and you made me do it anyways?”

“Molly she was going to blow you up!”  He shouts.

She shouts back.  “There weren’t any explosives!”

 

He gets up and comes around the table again dropping to his knees before her.  “Molly I had no reason to believe she was bluffing.  She had killed five people in the first two challenges without batting an eye.  I wasn’t even sure she wouldn’t blow you up even if you did say it.  But I had to try.  I had to hope that she would keep her word.  I couldn’t lose you.”  He was tugging onto her hands until she finally fell into his lap.  Pulling her into his arms he held her close like he had wanted to do since the moment he realized he meant those words.  They weren’t just a means to an end.  They were real.

“Molly I hated what she did to you, what she put you through, what I put you through and what it put me through but it made me realize something so very important.”  She lifted her head to see his face, hers marred with tears.  “I realized that every time I saw you that my heart beat a little faster, and that so very often I just made up reasons to come see you.  When I realized she had played her game just to toy with my emotions, that she made me hurt you so completely for no good reason I lost it.  I tore into the coffin she had made for you with my bare hands.  I didn’t stop until it was a pile of twigs.”

She pulled his hand around so she could see the scars from his bare knuckles meeting wood.  Cradling his hand in hers she gently kissed it.  After a few minutes, she said, “Dinner’s getting cold.  We should probably finish eating.”

“Yeah”, he said swallowing hard not sure how to navigate this new world of emotions.

“As he went to his seat she noticed the carpet.  Did you hoover too?”  She asked incredulously.

“Yes?”  He said cautiously, not quite sure how his answer would be received.  She started to laugh.  “What?”

“Oh nothing”, she said as she took her seat, “It’s just, I didn’t think you even knew how to turn the thing on!”

o0oOOo0o


	5. Who Are You and What Have You Done with Sherlock Holmes?

As they ate Sherlock kept stealing glances at Molly trying to deduce how she was feeling about all of this but he had to concede that he was rubbish at emotions.  That was Molly’s area not his.  So he stayed quiet as they allowed Angelo’s pasta to comfort them.

Molly mostly kept her head down savoring the pasta and trying to process everything.  Her mind _raced_ : ‘Someone had tried to kill her or not but let Sherlock think that they had.  That someone was his sister, a sister he had forgotten.  She was apparently quite mentally ill.  Did he say where she was now?’  Breaking her silence, she blurted out, “Where’s your sister now?” 

He looked back at her surprised that she was talking.  “Um, she’s back in Sherrinford.  Mycroft is insuring that it is secure this time.”

“Sherrinford?”  She asks trying to puzzle out whether he had mentioned this before.

“Sherrinford is where she has been all this time.  It is a secure facility on an island where the most dangerous are confined.”  He explained.

“But she got out before, what’s to say she won’t get out again?”  She bit into her bottom lip giving away how afraid she really was.

“Mycroft’s on it.  He won’t leave this to others this time.”  She nodded trying to take reassurance from that.  “Molly, your safe.  Mycroft has you on his security watch list now.  She won’t be able to hurt you.”

“and you?”  She asks quickly.

“me?”  He doesn’t understand what she’s asking.

Keeping her gaze on him she asks, “Will she still be able to hurt you?”

He takes a deep breath worrying at a thread in the tablecloth.  “She’s family Molly, I imagine she will always find a way to hurt me.”  She reaches over to still his hand.  His eyes meet hers and a small smile forms on his lips.  He lets his fingers curl around hers and once more take comfort in his Molly knowing exactly what he needs.

After a moment, she slid her hand from his and went back to her meal.  Now she was stealing glances at him trying to puzzle him out.  He was different that was apparent.  As if it had just happened she finally heard his words from earlier.  “I love you Molly Hooper, truly.”  Her heart sped up and she found it harder to breath.  ‘Could he mean that in the way she wanted him to?  Or does he mean as a friend?  He was afraid I would die.  Where would he get all those spare parts then?’  She snorted at that.

His head looked up at that, “What?”

Quickly her face became flushed and she waved away his concern.  But he continued to watch her trying to decipher her…he really was rubbish at this feelings bit. 

As soon as their plates were empty Sherlock jumped up, collected their plates, took them to the kitchen, and began the washing up.  Molly sat there with her mouth agape.  When she finally was able to move, she came up beside him at the sink.  Her eyes first caught sight of his hands covered in soapy water, then bounced up to his face, a face that seemed lost in the act of washing up, then back again.  Smiling she needled him, “Who are you and what have you done with Sherlock Holmes?”

He froze with the plate half submerged in the water, the sponge pressed against the plate to raise his head and stare out through the window.  “I don’t know who I am now, Molly”, he turned to look at her, “I just know I’m not the same person I was two days ago.”

Fear started to grip her.  She had only been teasing but he was truly shaken in his belief as to who he was.  Sherlock was always sure and always of himself.  The only time she ever saw anything close to this was that night he came to her and asked her to kill him.  Her heart nearly stopped in her chest.  That had been the hardest thing she had ever had to do, along with watch him leave for who knew how long, possibly forever.  The guilt she had had to live with for the next two years had helped to keep the other emotions at bay.   

She continued to watch him as he resumed the washing up.  The act itself seemed to sooth him in some way.  Where they stood with one another she wasn’t sure – as friends or something more but she knew he needed her.  He needed her to be his friend right now.  The rest would have to wait to get sorted.

o0oOOo0o

When he was finished, he turned to look at her as if to say ‘What now?’  Taking care of Sherlock Holmes was second nature to her, this she knew how to do.

“Shall I make us some tea?”  She offered.

He knew she would want the whole story and he knew if he was going to have to relive the worse day of his life that he would need more than tea.  “Do you have anything stronger?”

She smiled back at him, probably coming to the same conclusion he had.  “Yeah, I have wine or whiskey?”

“Whiskey!” He heard himself blurt.

Her look was intense as it seemed she was _deducing_ him.  She probably was.  She always could see him.  Nodding she directed him to go sit in the lounge, that she’d be along shortly.  Realizing she probably needed a moment to prepare for this; he realized he needed the same. 

On his way to her lounge he detoured into the washroom.  Staring at himself in the mirror he thought of her question, ‘What have you done with Sherlock Holmes’.  He’d been wondering that too if he was honest with himself.  All day he has been unsure of his footing, unsure where to begin, what to say, what to do.  He wasn’t used to that and he didn’t like it one bit.

The one thing he had been sure of was Molly.  As soon as he saw her, even as angry as she was at him, he felt safe, at home, where he needed to be.  He didn’t know if he was ready to share that insight with her yet but he smiled a little to himself knowing it was true.

When he came into the lounge she was already seated at her favorite end of the sofa.  In front of the sofa there was a tray with two tumblers, both with generous portions of whiskey with the bottle sitting next to them.  She smiled as he came in but said remained quiet.  When he finally sat at the opposite end of the sofa she reached forward and retrieved the glasses.  Passing one to him she said, “Cheers!” then clinked his glass with hers before downing a generous gulp.  Not to be outdone; he did the same.

Immediately he began to cough as the strong drink burned his throat.  She laughed.  When he could finally speak again he spouted, “I keep forgetting you’re of Irish heritage!”  He coughed some more not noticing her bewildered look.

“How do you know I’m part Irish?” she asked.  Of course, he was Sherlock, he probably deduced it from the tilt of her nose or something.

“Your mum.”  He stated as if obvious.

“My mum?”

“Yes, your mum.  Her maiden name was Brennan.  That’s definitely Irish.”

“But how would you know my mum’s maiden name.  She died when I was eight.”

“Mycroft.  He has a file.”

“On me?”  She shrieked.

“On everyone.  Mine probably takes up an entire file drawer by now.”  He said impressively.  “I so like to give my brother reasons to add to it.”  He smirks brightly in her direction as he takes a sip, this time, of the whiskey.  It goes down much smoother and he’s starting to feel the affects.  It may just give him enough Dutch courage to get through this story once more.

“So?”  She says in an attempt to get him started.

“So….”  He says back as if contemplating where to begin.

“I suppose this all began when I found John at his therapist’s office with a tranquilizer dart stuck in his neck.”  He began.

“Really?”

“Yep!  Apparently my sister was done playing her covert games and was ready for some family time.”  She winced at his twisted version of family time but then this was Sherlock.  He avoided family, his parents, Mycroft…..especially Mycroft.  She’d always wondered why.

“John told me that ‘his therapist’ had really been the girl from the bus and the woman I had spent the evening walking London with who I had thought was Culverton Smith’s daughter.”

“Wait, what?  What girl from the bus?”  Molly was already confused and he’d barely begun.

Sherlock looked embarrassed as if he had spoken out of turn.  “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to bring that up.  That….that’s actually not my story to tell so please let that part drop.”  She scrutinized him a moment but when she ascertained that he was being genuine she nodded for him to continue.  He took another sip of whiskey as did she.  “He then told me that she was my secret sibling, my long lost sister Eurus.  Of course, I thought he was mental.  I mean I’d know if I had a sister, right?”  He looked at her for confirmation.  She nodded.

“I immediately thought to go to Mycroft but I knew he wouldn’t just tell me the truth.”  She rolled her eyes wondering if those two had ever gotten along.  She took another sip of whiskey.  “After searching his home I found photos, then videos of us as children.  There was a girl in those photos.”  She sat up leaning towards him as he spoke.  “I didn’t remember her.  Was she my sister?  So John and I gaslighted Mycroft into confirming the truth.

She reached over to lay her hand on his arm.  “What was that like?”

“What was what like?” He asked before downing the rest of the whiskey.  He leaned forward to refill his glass.

“What was it like to realize you had a sister that you couldn’t remember?”  Her tone so genuine, so caring.

“Um….I was confused.  I couldn’t figure out why I wouldn’t remember her.  It was then that I realized that I couldn’t remember much of my childhood.  Most of my memories are from when we were older starting around ten or so.”

“Why do you think that is?”  There was definite concern in her voice.

He ran his right hand through his hair while the left clutched tightly to his glass.  “I’ve been thinking about this ever since he finally acknowledged that we had a sister.  After everything that happened after that I’ve come to the conclusion that Mycroft did something, or Uncle Rudy.”

“Uncle Rudy?”  She prompted.

“Yeah, Uncle Rudy Holmes.  He’s my dad’s brother.  He held a high secret position in government.  Mycroft always idolized him and basically followed his footsteps into the position he has today.”

“So what do you think they did?”

“Some kind of mind wipe or memory suppression.  I’m not sure but when I was finally able to talk with Mycroft the next day he admitted that he had been monitoring me for years looking for cracks in the armour so to speak.  He said he would throw out certain trigger words like Redbeard to see how I reacted to them.  I suppose if I didn’t act as he wanted he probably drug me in for a top off.”  He was staring into his glass now thinking about how his brother and uncle had manipulated him his entire life.  Considering what the truth really was he wasn’t sure if he should be furious with them or grateful.  He took another swig of the Irish liquor feeling the burn as it slid down his throat.

“Sherlock that’s terrible.”  She stated quietly.

“Is it?  After learning the truth I’m not so sure.”

“Is it really that bad?”  She asks as she moves slightly closer to him.

“I’ll let you decide that for yourself when I finish telling you.”  He swirls the brown liquor in the glass and takes another sip.  “So do you want me to tell you how my sister blew up 221B?”  He asked with almost a manic tone to his voice.

Molly’s eyes went wide.  “That was your sister!?!”

“Yep, apparently she’s a drama queen too!”  He joked then took another drink when he realized how ‘not good’ that really was.

“She sent in a special military drone bomb knowing Mycroft would know about them.  I suppose she was testing us to see how intelligent we were.  If we didn’t survive then I suppose we wouldn’t have been worthy adversaries for her.”  Molly shook her head in disbelief.  At that moment being an only child didn’t seem such a hardship.

“We managed to get out and devised a plan to get into Sherrinford.  At that point we were certain that the security had been compromised but we didn’t know how.  Mycroft didn’t want to risk going through regular channels as it would alert Eurus.” 

He then placed the glass on the table and began to pace.  “While John and Mycroft were dealing with security issues I went straight to Eurus.  I wanted to see her with my own eyes.  I guess I thought I would remember her if I saw her but I didn’t.  There was nothing….nothing where those memories should have been.” 

He was becoming more agitated as he recounted how Eurus tried to trigger his memories with code words and taunts.  “She kept wanting me to touch the glass of her cell.  She was relentless, apparently she has a way of bending others to her will.  When I finally did, it became apparent that there was no glass at all…..that’s when all hell broke loose.”  His breathing was rapid, and his pace had increased.  Again and again his hands went through his hair until it was totally disheveled.

Her heart was breaking for him.  Slowly she placed the glass on the table and walked to him.  No sudden moves, she didn’t want to startle him.  When she stepped in the path of his pacing he seemed so relieved to have her there.  Tentatively he wrapped his arms around her feeling her comfort surround him, feeling her love, and wanting to never leave the security of it.

Deliberately she maneuvered him back to the sofa where she continued to hold him.  As he clung to her she realized that this was far bigger than a phone call.  That as much as she had thought he had hurt her it was nothing compared to the hell he was experiencing.

o0oOOo0o


	6. I love you Molly

After a few minutes, Sherlock started to stir.  Looking up at him she could see the devastation in his eyes, the hell that he had been through.  She wasn’t sure if she wanted to hear anymore but she knew he needed to tell it.  He needed to tell her.

“So, what happened next?”  She prompted, then poured them each a new drink.  He took it taking a generous gulp to fortify himself for the next part.

She stayed near as he began.  “So when we all woke up we were in a cell:  John, Mycroft, the governor of the prison, and me.  We could see Eurus through the glass of the cell.  Behind her was a woman tied to a chair that the governor soon realized was his wife.  She told us that I had to choose who would kill the governor:  John or Mycroft.  She said if we refused she would kill the governor’s wife.  For added incentive she patched us through to a phone call of a little girl.  She was on an airplane where everyone else was passed out.  She needed our help but Eurus would only allow us to talk to her again when we completed the challenge.”

Molly felt quite out of her depth.  How do you comfort someone through something like this?  This would have been bad enough it if was Moriarty or some other criminal but this was his sister.  Not knowing what else to do she remained quiet but stayed close with her hands against his arm.

“I tried to get Mycroft to do it but he refused.  Typical, Mycroft can authorize a legion to descend and decimate but he won’t pull the trigger himself.  That left John.  John had been a soldier, he’s killed before.  But he couldn’t do it, not even with the governor begging him to, to save his wife.  Desperate to save his wife the governor turned the gun on himself.  It didn’t matter though to Eurus, she killed his wife anyways.”

Molly took in a deep breath as she held her hand to her mouth just trying to process what that had to have been like.  Her hold on him became tighter as she wanted him to know she was here; she hasn’t left him.

He continued to recite the events,  not registering her distress for him.  “She then led us into another room.  At first, she let me speak to the little girl again but soon cut the connection.  She had laid out a case in front of me.  I was to determine which of three brothers had committed the murder.  Based on my answer she would know who to toss into the ocean.  She had all three brothers dangling outside the facility where their death was insured by the rocks near the water.  I solved it but it didn’t matter as she dropped all three of them to their death anyways.”  He sounded resigned as he spoke now.  He didn’t take any satisfaction in solving the case but seemed rather ashamed to have had to be part of it at all.  He was still nursing the whiskey taking sips regularly.  To Molly it seemed he needed the fortification to keep going. 

“She let me speak to the little girl again but that was before she led us into the next room.”  Stopping there he was just staring into his nearly empty glass.  He wasn’t sure if he could go on.  ‘Could he really make her relive that phone call again?’

She sensed that something had changed and she suspected that this might be where she came in.  Reaching over she took the glass from his hand, placing it on the table.  She then took his hand in hers slowly caressing her thumb against the back of his it.  “I’m here Sherlock.  It’s ok, go on.”

He turned his body towards her wondering how she could ever be as strong as she is…..and being so grateful that she was.  His hand clenched hers tighter reassuring him that she was indeed still there.  He took a deep breath, his eyes not meeting hers, then he began.  “When we walked into the next room there was a coffin.”  She gasped remembering him saying it had been made for her. He found her other hand with his, holding them both as he continued.  “By the size and particulars I deduced it was for you.”  He made eye contact for just a moment before he looked away. 

“Mycroft found the lid with the words on it.  It was then that Eurus told me that she was going to call you and that I needed to make you say those words or she’d blow up your flat.  She set the timer for three minutes.”  He stole another glance at her face trying to gauge how she was taking this.  She nodded at him so he continued.  “As the phone began to ring she showed me you in your kitchen.  I kept willing you to pick up the phone but you ignored it, even when you knew it was me.  You never do that.  Eurus then dialed again and all I could do was will you to answer it this time as the timer kept clicking down.”

She could feel how anxious he was, even now far away from that island and his sister.  His fear was palpable…..he was afraid _for her_.  “I was so grateful when you picked up the phone but then what I had to do was so terribly difficult.” 

She pressed her finger to his lips and he immediately looked into her eyes.  “You don’t have to relive this part.  I was there I know what happened.” 

Tugging on her hands he pulled her closer.  His voice was hoarse as if he had been shouting for days.  “But you don’t.  I was so scared Molly.  I was so scared that I wouldn’t be able to get you to say it, that she would kill you as she killed all the people in the previous challenges.  I didn’t know if she wouldn’t kill you anyways even if you did say those three words.  Then you challenged me…you made me say them first.”

She tried to pull back from him but he wouldn’t let her.  “I shouldn’t have done that Sherlock.  I didn’t know what you were going through.  I thought you were making fun of me.”

“I’m sorry.” He began but she tried to stop him.  “No, I need to say this.  I’m sorry I ever let you think that I cared so little for you that I would think your love for me as trivial.  It was never trivial.  Yes, I know I took advantage of it often enough but not because I didn’t value it.  I’ve always valued you Molly, not just for what you could do for me, but because you are the most extraordinarily kind person I have ever met.  I was so desperate to save you.  I knew without a doubt that my life would be worthless without you in it.

He pulled her closer still.  “I would never make fun of you like that.  Never again, not after I knew.” 

She realized he was talking about the Christmas party; the Christmas party where he had deduced her feelings and then was surprised they were for him.  Thinking about it now he never did make fun of her feelings, took advantage sometimes yes but he never dismissed them.  “Why?”

“Why what?”  He was caught off guard by her question.

“Why didn’t you ever make fun of my feelings after that Christmas party?”

“Because I knew they were for me.”

“Why did that make it different?”

“Molly, I know everyone thinks I’m an insensitive clod but even I know not to disrespect someone who loves you.  I have, after all, so few who do.”  He gave her that smile, that smile from when he wished her happiness in that empty stairwell.  It was that smile that had fueled her for months and that ultimately reminded her as to why she could never marry Tom.

“You respect me?”  She sounds incredulous and that rather irritates him.

“Of course I do, surely you know that.”

“But you would always deduce awful things about my dates.”

“Yes, about them, not you.  They weren’t good enough for you Molly.”

Blinking she thought about what he said and realized that his remarks were about her dates, not her.  “But Tom, you never said anything about Tom.  Why?”

He looked down at their joined hands and sighed.  “What could I say Molly?  You were already engaged to him when I came back.  It would only have hurt you to point out how wrong he was for you.  You seemed happy.  I wanted you to be happy.”

“Even if you were miserable?”  She ventured.

Purposely not looking at her he nodded, “even if all along I wished it could be me.”

“Sherlock?”  Finally he raised his head looking at her sheepishly.  “You’ve had these feelings for awhile?”

He looked away but she gently brought his face back into her view.  The feel of her hand against his cheek made him smile.  “I don’t think I really understood what they meant…..not entirely.  I was jealous of Tom but you seemed so happy with him that I could not do anything to upset that.  I was sure that despite your feelings that I could never make you happy.  So, I tried to be happy for you.  I wanted you to be happy.  When you broke off your engagement I thought about you but I was deep into the Magnussen case…..”

“and the drugs.”  She brought up.

“Yes, those too.  Then there was Janine and Mary and when that business with Magnussen went belly up I was sure I had done the right thing.  What good would I be to you when I wasn’t expected to last the next six months?”

Molly seemed perplexed.  ‘What was he talking about?’  She knew that he had somehow been involved with Charles Augustus Magnussen but didn’t know what had really happened.  “Six months?  What are you talking about?”

He took a deep breath.  If he was going to bare his soul he might as well go all the way.  If she wanted him she needed to know the truth, warts and all.  “Molly what I am about to tell you is only known to a few people and most of them have a security clearance to rival the Queen.  You must not breath a word of it to anyone and please, I beseech you, never to Mycroft.  Do you understand?”  She nods. 

Taking another deep breath, he continues.  “Charles Augustus Magnussen was the most vile, loathsome creature I have ever encountered.  He collected information on people and then used it to get what he wanted.  He called them their pressure points.  I had been engaged by a high ranking official in British Parliament to get the information he was holding over her husband, and by proxy, her.  It was why I had pretended to have a romance with Janine.  I needed to gain access to his office and she was his P.A.” 

Molly winced at the thought of him involved in any way with another woman but somehow it didn’t feel any better knowing it was all a ruse.

“I know I’m a bastard but she made a good deal of money off me in the tabloids and has a lovely cottage out in Sussex to show for it.  Honestly I was more upset about how you took it.”

She wrinkled her nose at him.  “How I took it?  Whatever do you mean?”

“You were so angry with me you wouldn’t even come see me in hospital.  You’ve always come to hospital when I have been injured.”  He sounded rather petulant and she couldn’t help but smile a little.

“Well, actually I did come.  I just made sure it was after you were given your evening meds and I could be sure you were asleep.” 

“Why?  Why not when I was awake?”

“Because I _was_ mad at you.  I was mad at you that you could have a relationship with Janine but not with me.  I was angry that I had let Tom go in the hopes of us.  I was mad at myself that I wasn’t what you wanted and I couldn’t let you see that on my face.”

He pulled her close, resting his forehead against hers taking in each breath she let out.  “But you are what I want, you always have been.  I’ve just been too terrified to admit it, even to myself.  If there was anything that I could classify as good coming out of that whole experience at Sherrinford it was the crystallization of my true feelings for you.  I love you Molly.”  Tears were sliding down her cheeks.  “I’m still a bastard and will probably cock this up six ways to Sunday but I do love you.  I think I have for a long time.” 

Her lip quivered at the intensity of his declaration.  Her life wasn’t at stake.  No one was making him say it yet he chose to anyways.  “I love you too.”  She signed quietly.

A cheeky smile overtook him, “I know.”  Then slowly, tentatively he pressed his lips to hers.  It was so gentle she barely felt it but she knew what a big step this was for him, for them.  He then pulled her into his chest holding her tight, stroking her hair as they laid against the sofa back.  Soon her eyes began to droop and she needed rest.

Pushing herself up against his chest she announced, “I think it’s time for bed Sherlock.”  His eyes went wide but she quickly patted his chest.  “For sleeping.  I know you have more to tell me but my head’s spinning and I imagine yours is as well.”  He just sighed.  “It’s been a long couple of days.  I have off tomorrow and want to have a late lie-in.  Care to join me?”  She asked as she rose from the sofa. 

He nodded in agreement.  The whiskey and the emotions had drained him but holding Molly all night long might be just what he needed.  She led him to her bedroom stopping to pull his nightclothes from the bottom drawer.  Then she took her own to the washroom.  When she returned, he had changed into his pajama bottoms and tshirt but needed to use the loo before bed.  As she crawled into bed it should have seemed like the many other times her and Sherlock had shared this bed but no, this was definitely different.  Because now she knew he loved her and nothing could take the smile from inside her at the thought of that.

o0oOOo0o


	7. Everything was Different

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for the warm welcome to the world of Sherlolly. I appreciate all of the kudos and especially those of you who took the time to write a comment. Author's really like those!

She woke to the feel of his arms around her, tightening, as he shouted “NO!” again and again.  It was impossible to turn around, nor did he seem to be hearing her pleas of “Sherlock, it’s alright.  I’m here.”  She had no choice but to wake him with a hard slap on his backside. 

Immediately he silenced and lessened his hold on her, enough that she could turn in his arms and face him.  “Sherlock, I’m right here.  Everything is alright.”  He refused to look her in the eye, embarrassed that she caught him in a nightmare.  “Hey look at me.  It’s alright.  It was just a nightmare.”  He continued to look down avoiding eye contact.  Sliding her finger under his chin she forced it up so he could see her.  When she finally caught his eye, she gave him a smile.  Stroking his cheek, she spoke softly, “It’s ok, you know.  Everybody has nightmares.  Considering all that you have been through these past few days I can’t say I’m surprised.”

Gently she asks, “Do you want to talk about it?”  He shakes his head.  Understanding that he might not be ready for that level of intimacy yet she has him lay back down while she runs her fingers through his curls.  Slowly he moves over to her chest listening to her heartbeat as she soothes his fears away.

He could never tell her what he dreamed.  No one wants to hear that they died at the hands of a madwoman.  He’s not sure how long he stayed awake but it was long after Molly’s hand got tired and she faded back into sleep.  Hearing her heart beat in her chest reassured him that she was still alive and eventually he was able to drift off as well.

o0oOOo0o

It was quite late in the morning when she finally woke.  She hadn’t had a day to just sleep-in in ages and it felt good.  While stretching, she realized she was alone in the bed.  She fell back against her pillow and stared at the ceiling.  Last night had been intense, she can’t say she’s surprised that he scurried off in the night.  Sherlock never was very good with emotions and last night was a mine field of them.

Therefore, she shrieked when he appeared by her bedside with a breakfast tray in his hands.  “Sherlock?” 

She seemed surprised that he was there.  ‘Why would she be surprised?  She invited me to stay.’ 

He was looking at her with that smile, that smile that melts her heart and she’s damn well sure he knows it.  “Good morning Molly.  I trust that you slept well.”  He motioned for her to sit up.

”Yes, I did.  It was nice to have a lie-in.  It’s been ages.”  She said as she adjusted the coverings so he could put the tray on the bed. 

After he did he sat down next to her handing her her tea.  “Well I think a proper lie-in requires tea and sausages.”

She looked over the tray to indeed see sausages, cheese omelets, and toast points.  “You made all this?”  She asked as she nabbed a sausage with a fork.

“Of course…”, he said as he took a bite of omelet, “who else?”  A crooked little smile took over her face.  “What?” he asked.

“I’m just happy Sherlock.  I’m just happy you’re here, with me.”  He smiled back at her hoping she knew how glad he was to be here as well.

And she was happy.  When she thought about last night she kept hearing him say “I love you” and it filled her with a joy she never thought she’d experience with him.  Over her mug of tea, she watched him as he eagerly devoured the breakfast he had made.  When he looked her way, he was surprised by the perplexed look on her face.  “What?”  he asked.

Blushing that he caught her staring, she says.  “Well, it’s just I’ve never seen you eat so much.  Dinner last night and now breakfast.”

He shrugged his shoulders as he popped another sausage in his mouth.  “I’m not on a case.”

“So, you always eat like this when you’re not on a case?”

He paused with his toast in hand, “Not always.”  He thought about it.  “but I seem to be quite ravenous ever since the whole Sherrinford ordeal.”  He took a big bite from his toast.  She nodded then silently ate her own breakfast. 

Leaning against the headboard with her tea she stretched out on the bed; he did the same.  It seemed unreal to her that she was having a proper lie-in with Sherlock.  When she looked his way, he was already watching her and he smiled.  Shyly she smiled back.  “So, what does one do on a lie-in?”  He asked.

“You’ve never had a lie-in?”  She asked incredulously.

“Well, I mean I’ve slept for some fourteen hours after a case but that was just sleeping.  When I woke up I would get out of bed and go to my chair or the sofa.  There never seemed a good reason to stay in bed.”  He pauses to look her up and down.  “But now I see where I might have been wrong about that.”

She blushes as he leans her way for a shy kiss.  It’s still fairly chaste but it is more than they have ever shared before (and they _are_ in her bed).  It’s also when she gets a good whiff of him and her nose wrinkles in disgust.  “Sherlock, when was the last time you showered?”

Pulling back, he looks slightly offended until he sniffs himself and has to agree with her assessment.  “Um, not sure….a few days ago?”

“Then I think that might be where we start. You get a shower while I clean up the kitchen then I’ll take one.  Maybe we could go out for a walk?  It’s supposed to be a lovely day.”

Smiling back at her he heads to the loo removing his shirt as he went.  ‘Did he not know what he just did to her seeing his bare torso?  Or maybe he knew exactly what he was doing.  This new Sherlock Holmes was going to take some getting used to.’

o0oOOo0o

Pulling on her dressing gown she headed to the kitchen expecting a disastrous mess.  To her surprise, it was immaculate.  After pouring herself another mug of tea she leaned against the counter and surveyed the shining countertops, the washed pans sitting in the strainer to dry, and that all the ingredients had been put away.  It was like she was seeing a different person.  Sherlock never cleaned up after himself in the lab, nor when he would crash at her place claiming he ‘needed a bolthole’.  ‘What was different now?’ 

After a few minutes, it occurred to her that ‘everything, everything was different.’  He hadn’t finished his story last night but from what he did say it seemed he had suffered a fairly traumatic childhood trauma.  It was enough for him to rid himself of any memory of his sister, and to turn his best friend’s memory into a dog.  The past few days had been hell on him finding out he had a sister, that his brother had kept that from him, and then meeting his sister.  She continued to sip at her tea as she thought of how frightened he had to have been seeing her for the first time and then finding out how unbalanced she really was.

She was so deep in her thoughts she didn’t hear him come in until he slid next to her at the counter.  “Am I now more acceptable to your olfactory senses?”

She started at him sneaking up on her but then she leaned his way taking in his scent.  She blushed as she gave him a smile, “You smell nice.”

“Thank you.”  He leaned in and kissed her cheek.

As much as she is loving this new affectionate Sherlock; it is also weirding her out a bit.  ‘This is going to take some getting used to.’  It surprised her that he was wearing black jeans with a black cashmere jumper.  ‘How many clothes did he have at her place?’

“I should probably get my shower now as well.”  She mumbled as she made her way out of the kitchen. As she got to the doorway she turned to him, “Thank you for cleaning up the kitchen, as well as making breakfast.”

“It was the least I could do for you Molly.”  He answered her sincerely.

‘Yeah, this new Sherlock was definitely going to take some time to adjust to.’ She thought as she headed to take her shower.

o0oOOo0o

After she leaves he pours himself another cuppa then heads to the lounge.  Finding his suit jacket he pulls out his phone.  It has blown up with messages from John, Mycroft, even a couple from Mrs. Hudson.  They all wanted to know where he was?  Was he alright?

He sits on the edge of the sofa thinking about all that has transpired since he walked inside her flat yesterday afternoon.  Despite all that had changed in this world, Molly was still there, still his friend, still the person he turned to when he needed to make sense out of the world.  He felt safe here with her.  ‘Is that what feeling loved felt like?’ 

He’s sure Mycroft knows where he is.  He has Molly on his security detail, besides he’s not above pinging his phone to ascertain his location.  So, he decides to respond to John’s messages first.

_I’m fine, John.  I’m at Molly’s. -SH_

In less than 30 seconds John responds:  _Thank goodness.  I thought you went to Baker Street but when I went there you were gone.  Mrs. Hudson wasn’t being very forthright with details.  When will you be back? -JW_

_Not sure.  I’m fine where I am for now.  Talk to you soon.  -SH_

Next, he let Mrs. Hudson know he was still at Molly’s and that no sharp objects were wielded.  When it came to his brother he was irritated…as he always was he supposed.

_Brother mine, I know you know perfectly well where I am.  Do you need me? -SH_

Before finishing his sip of tea his phone dinged alerting him that his brother had answered.  _Not today, brother mine but mummy is insisting I meet with her and father tomorrow.  She wants to see Eurus.  I may need assistance in convincing them that that is unwise.  -MH_

He signed heavily as he read his text.  ‘Yes, talking this over with their parents was not going to be easy.  As much as he usually would leave Mycroft to dangle in the wind on his own he knows he can’t…not this time.’

_Let me know the time and place and I’ll be there.  -SH_

_Thank you, brother mine.  -MH_

o0oOOo0o


	8. Why Didn’t You Find Me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you feeling lucky today....two chapters at once. I'm a bit nervous about a certification test I have to take so instead of studying I thought I'd hang out here in Sherlolly land for awhile. I like it here. Ok, yes, I suppose ....I should get to studying. :(

Molly came into the lounge her wet hair spread around her shoulders.  She was wearing one of her favorite jumpers with its loud colors and its odd patterns.  It made him smile as he thought of how her sense of style was completely her own.  “So, you up for a walk?”  She asked. 

“Sure, where to?” He asked as he rose from the sofa.

“Just for a walk, maybe to the park.  I also have a few errands to do maybe on the way back?”  She wasn’t sure how far she could push this new incarnation of Sherlock Holmes.  He was after all still Sherlock.

“That sounds fine.”  He agreed as he shoved his phone into his back pocket.

“What about your suit?”  He looked over to where his jacket laid on the chair unsure what she was asking.  “Should we drop it at the dry cleaners?”  She couldn’t quite decipher the look on his face but concluded that he had no idea what a dry cleaner was.  “Seriously Sherlock, did you think Mrs. Hudson just got them clean by magic?”

Shaking his head, he responded, “No, I just don’t ever want to wear that suit again.”

She swallowed hard being reminded of the ordeal that had transpired while he wore it.  Nodding in understanding she headed for her coat and shoes near the door.   Silently they locked up and headed out into the London streets. 

She got him out of his head by asking him to deduce people as they passed by.  Several times he had her laughing and even more so when she realized he was making stuff up to see what her reaction would be.  After nearly an hour they headed for the park watching as children enjoyed the beginnings of Spring.  The adults too seemed to welcome the sun on their faces as the park was bustling with activity.

At some point while they were walking he had offered her his arm and she gladly wound hers around it.  It was at the bend of the path that an Irish Setter with a beautiful red coat rushed past them brushing against his leg.  At the sight of the dog he was instantly taken to his mind palace where the once comforting sight of Redbeard did anything but.  Taunting him the dog transformed into Victor and back again.  Victor kept asking him “Why didn’t you find me?”

Molly didn’t know what was going on except that he had stopped dead in the middle of the path.  Looking him over she could see the shortness of breath, the perspiration forming on his brow and instantly recognized the symptoms of a panic attack.  Molly had to think fast and pulled him into the stone dwellings near the Secret Garden.  He was having a panic attack and he certainly didn’t need all of London witnessing it. 

As soon as they were alone he clawed at the stone walls as he gasped for air, one hand pressed against his chest trying to calm the pain that shot through it.  Without warning nausea overtook him and he found himself on his hands and knees emptying the contents of his stomach.  Throughout Molly kept her hand at his back letting him know she was there but knowing all too well he would need to weather the attack on his own.

After his nausea passed he sat against the ancient stone walls still trying to catch his breath.  Molly sat in front of him so he could see her as he started to come back from whatever place his panic had sent him.  “Sherlock?”  she ventured not sure if it was too soon to try to talk with him.

It was still several more minutes before he responded by looking up at her.  “Sorry.”  He croaked, his throat raw with his sick.

“It’s ok.” She started to say before he cut her off.

“No, Molly, it’s not!  You shouldn’t have to put up with this.  I’ve hurt you enough.  I should just go.”  He started to push himself off the ground when Molly’s voice stopped him in his movements.

“William Sherlock Scott Holmes you are not going anywhere!”  She commanded.  His eyes widened then he fell back against the wall silently deducing this strong woman in front of him.  It helped to calm him deducing her genuine conviction that they were going to stay put until she decided it was time to go.  He found he didn’t mind in that moment giving his control over to her, the one person he trusted above all else.

Fumbling through her purse she pulls out first some tissues that she hands over, then a bottle of water.  He takes them wiping his mouth then drinking the blessed water.  It cooled his raw throat.  Soon he was feeling himself.  “I think I’m ok now, Molly.”  He croaked, his throat still sore.

“That’s for me to decide.”  Then a little softer she asked, “What happened?”

He stared at her for several minutes before he could speak, mostly it was just babble.  “The dog….. Irish Setter …..Redbeard …….Victor.”  He shook his head trying to get the images out of his mind, not wanting to go back there.

Inching closer she wrapped her hands around his.  “It’s ok.  I’m here.  Talk to me.”

Looking up at her he was able to focus again, to focus on her.  “The dog, the Irish Setter when it brushed against me…..  I..I saw Redbeard in my mind palace.  The Redbeard I always thought he was….my dog.  But then…”  He gasps for breath again.  “But then he turned into Trevor and kept asking me why I didn’t find him.”

She had been scooting closer to him as he spoke and now she could wrap her arms around him in an embrace.  She wasn’t sure how he’d react but he surprised her by latching on to her like she was his lifeline.  She’s not sure how long they stayed that way but by the chill in the air and the lessening of light she knew it had been awhile.  “Hey!”  She said as she pulled back to see his face.  The tears that marred his beautiful cheekbones broke her heart.  “Head back to mine?”  He nodded and as one they rose from the grassy, rocky ground.

He remained silent on the way back and she followed his lead.  When they reached her flat he shuffled to the sofa where he laid down, not bothering to take off his coat, scarf, or shoes.  Thinking it was best to give him some space she went to the kitchen to prepare tea.

o0oOOo0o

Quietly she brings in a mug of tea for him leaving it on the table in front of the sofa.  His eyes are closed and his breathing is calm.  She doubts he’s sleeping; probably just off in his mind palace.  Returning to the kitchen she decides to make dinner.  They had missed lunch and she realized she was quite hungry.  Looking over the ingredients in her fridge and pantry she decided on a simple stir-fry.  It would be quick. 

As she was getting out the pans she heard a shuffling behind her.  Looking over her shoulder she saw Sherlock, sans coat and scarf, begin to cut up the vegetables and chicken she had laid on the counter.  She was going to tell him not to be bothered but she remembered how delighted he was with the breakfast he made, maybe he needed this.

With the rice in the cooker she prepared the wok over the open flame.  Soon he brought over the chicken he had cut up tossing it into the sizzling pan.  He didn’t say anything but he smiled back at her when she smiled at him.  They continued this silent interaction as they prepared the meal together.  When she held up the bottle of wine he nodded so she put two glasses on the table with the bottle between them. 

He disappeared while she was plating the food and she soon heard the strains of violin music coming from her sound system.  As they began their meal he seemed very far away despite the distance being less than a meter.  She reasoned that he had a lot to work out and that she should leave him to it.  He would let her know if he needed something.

The thought of waiting around for Sherlock Holmes to need her made her angry again, this time at herself.  How did she end up here, again?  ‘ _Because you love him’_ , her traitorous brain supplied. 

But then she remembered all the times he had said ‘I love you’ to her last night and she knew it was more this time.  It could be more.  Looking over at him she decided not to wait for him to come to her but to reach across the vastness of her tiny table.  “Sherlock?”  She waiting until he looked up at her.  “What were you like as a child?” 

At first his face was sad, then he broke into a grin.  He told her of the adventures of YellowBeard and RedBeard.  He shared some of the many naughty tricks he used to play on Mycroft.  He talked about his mum and dad and the holidays they went on.  She had never heard him talk of any of this before.  She barely even knew he still had a mum and dad except for John telling her about them.  He was smiling …..smiling.  She could hardly believe it.

She smiled back.  “That sounds like a wonderful childhood Sherlock.  Why have you never talked about it before?”

He stopped smiling and stared at her.  After a few minutes, he finally said, “Because I hadn’t remembered it.”  Her heart broke for him and she reached across the table to twine her fingers with his. 

Abruptly he pulled his fingers away to jump out of his chair and begin pacing.  His fingers running through his curls as he mumbled, “Why didn’t I remember?  What else have I forgotten?”  Then he stopped dead in his tracks.  “What have they done to me?”

“Who?  Who Sherlock?”  She was feeling as stressed out as he looked.

“My family!”  He stated as he flopped back into his chair.  “What have they done to me, Molly?”

“You think your family did something to make you forget?  What?  Your childhood?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Thrown by the question he looks up at her.  “Why indeed.  Since we will all be together tomorrow I will be sure to ask them.” 

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes, Mycroft texted that Mummy is insisting that she be taken to see Eurus.  He’s asked me to help her understand why that would not be a good idea right now.”  When he looks over she’s worrying a thread on the tablecloth and he realizes he should have told her this earlier.  Going to her side of the table he pulls her from her seat and into his arms.  “Molly, I’m sorry I didn’t say anything earlier.  I’m still trying to process all of this and it’s quite confusing.”

“I understand”, she says while her head rests on his chest, “Would you like me to go with you?”  He stiffens at the thought of Molly being involved in anything more with Eurus.  Noticing how tense he becomes she lifts her head to look him in the eye.  “But not if you don’t want me there.” 

“No Molly it’s not you….well it is you…..but not like you’re thinking.  This is going to be difficult and ugly and I don’t want it to touch you anymore than it already has.”  He tightens his arms around her leaving gentle kisses at her temple.  “When this is ….is not such hell I want you to meet my parents.  They would love you on sight.”

Surprised she says, “Really?”

“Yes, really.  This isn’t the right circumstances now.  None of us are at our best.  Give us time to get this sorted and I promise I will even drive you to our cottage in Sussex to see where I grew up.”

“Cottage in Sussex?  Really, I would have expected that you lived on some fancy estate.” 

His face paled.  “Well actually, we did, until Eurus burned it to the ground.”

“What?  Oh Sherlock!”  She gasped.

He held her even tighter.  “Yeah, just another memory I had forgotten.”

Quietly they resume their meal with Sherlock asking her about cases at the morgue.  She knows he wants a distraction from his own life and she is happy to comply.  It has always been so easy to share her work with him, not like most of her other friends.  Sherlock has always shown a genuine interest in what she does and not once has he turned green like that one-time Molly tried to discuss her work with Tom over dinner.

After dinner, they quietly wash up the kitchen then take their wine to the lounge for a night of crap telly and just being near each other.  She’s fairly certain he spent most of the time in his mind palace because he didn’t once complain about the gaping plot holes in the detective drama she had chosen.  Still it was nice to have him close.

When they crawled into bed he pulled her close and she didn’t object.  She felt needed, needed by Sherlock Holmes and not just for a case.  She fell asleep with a smile.

o0oOOo0o


	9. I’ll be thinking of you today

The next morning, she slid out of bed when her alarm went off trying not to wake him.  After gathering her clothes, she stood there watching him sleep.  While he slept, he seemed to have found peace.  She could only hope that continued when he woke.  After saying a silent prayer over him, she finally went to take her shower. 

He was still asleep when she left so she left him a note on her pillow.  “ _I’ll be thinking of you today.  Call me if you need me.  Love Molly.”_   Hours later when he found it he felt his face stretch into a smile. 

o0oOOo0o

His pace slowed the closer he got to Mycroft’s underground office.  ‘Why were we meeting here instead of the Diogenes Club?’  He had to wonder.  ‘Probably Mycroft’s need to show off how important he was with his austere underground lare.’ He groused.  Stopping outside the door, he felt for the paper inside his pocket.  Touching Molly’s words fortified him for what laid beyond that threshold.

When he opened the door, his mother turned immediately to look at him and quickly had him in her arms.  He was surprised to find he didn’t mind.  ‘Why after years, decades of trying to avoid them did he welcome his mother and father’s touch?’ 

He didn’t have time to ponder this now as they had more pressing family business.  Mycroft was trying valiantly to explain why he thought it had been a kindness to let their parents think their daughter had died years prior.  Watching Mycroft’s face, he could see how much this had cost him.  He was always closer to their parents but now they looked to him to salvage the situation.  The look of despair on Mycroft prompted him to do something he rarely did, defend his brother.  “He did his best.”  He heard himself utter as he stared straight at Mycroft.  It was only with a slight nod that he acknowledged his kindness. 

Despite all that Eurus had put them through he yearned for a connection to her as he believed she did with him.  Otherwise what was all this about?  If it had been revenge she would not have spared Molly’s life, nor his.

He outlined to his family how he was going to use their violin playing as a way to make a connection to her.  He didn’t know if it would work but it was the one thing that they had in common.  Mycroft stayed uncommonly quiet during the discussion but his parents seemed to think it was a good idea.  As they were gathering their things to go Sherlock spoke up from the chair he had taken, “Why didn’t I remember my childhood?”

His eyes went from the ashen face of his mother to the pale downcast face of his father to a Mycroft who tried to fully avoid his gaze.  He wasn’t really angry with their avoidance but it did make him curious that they all seemed to know something.  Bringing his steepled hands under his chin, he continued, “It’s starting to come back in bits and pieces.  I remember playing with Victor.  I remember Eurus being there, us going on holidays, laughing with the family.  But until three days ago none of that existed in my memories.”  He quelled them with a look, “Why?”

His mum looked at his father, then they both looked to Mycroft.  Mycroft started to speak but he cut him off, “No, I want to hear this from mummy.”  He turned back to his mum.

If he was not mistaken she looked ready to cry and he hadn’t seen her cry in years.  Steady as a rock his mum always was.  She came and sat across from him looking quite unsure how to begin.  For once he chose to wait patiently.

After a few minutes, she began.  “When you lost Victor you were beside yourself.  I don’t think you understood that he must be dead but you knew he was gone and you felt responsible.  Eurus kept taunting you with that riddle night and day.  At the time, we didn’t know it was about Victor, that she had hidden him or we would have done something.”

She tugged at her sleeves as he often does when he is nervous.  “By the time we realized that she was involved in his disappearance it was obvious it was too late.  She was already referring to him as ‘drowned Redbeard’.”  Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes to fortify herself to go on.  “Your father and I discussed what we should do.  It was apparent that she needed help beyond what we could provide.  Your Uncle Rudy was contacted to ask for his advice.  It was during those times that we discovered……” 

Her hands covered her mouth as she tried to get this next part out.  “We discovered Eurus’ drawings ….drawings of you.  In most of them, she had done something violent to you.  We were so afraid.  We’re not sure why she’d done it.  We’re not sure if she heard us or if it was an accident but she set fire to those drawings which burned Musgrave to the ground.”

Looking at him he shared no reaction only nodded for her to continue.  “You seemed to hide inside yourself more and she….well, it was obvious she needed more care than we could provide.  Uncle Rudy made the arrangements and she was taken to the asylum.” 

 

She couldn’t stop her hands from fidgeting over one another.  It surprised her when he leaned forward and took her hands in his.  “It’s ok, keep going.”

 

He kept hold of her hands as she continued.  “We were so worried for you.  Uncle Rudy had suggested a therapist and that seemed like the responsible thing to do.  We didn’t know….we just didn’t know.”  She began to sob.  Sherlock found himself pulling his mum into his embrace which only caused her to cry harder.  It seemed he has been in this position more and more as of late.  His father came to his wife and place his hand on her shoulder.

When she had calmed, Mycroft took over the story.  “What none of us knew until much, much later is that the therapist had relieved you of your memories of Eurus and Victor.  He had removed your access to your thoughts and feelings having anything to do with them and for the most part us as well.  You became cold and logical; so unlike the emotional boy you had been.”

“The therapist”, his father interjected, “suggested we remove any reminders of Eurus and to not talk about her in your presence.  We did as instructed.'

His mum had a strong hold on his hands and he seemed to be doing the same.  “It wasn’t until Mycroft took over for Uncle Rudy that we understood what had been done.”

Sherlock looked over to Mycroft for answers, “They had used a combination of hypnotherapy and electric shock to close off those memories to you.  Apparently, Victor had been especially difficult to remove so they transformed your best friend into an Irish Setter with similar colorings in hair.”

Sherlock fell back into the chair, his mind whirling from all that had been revealed.  Of course, he had come up with similar theories himself but it was different having them confirmed.  After several minutes, his mum prompted, “Sherlock, are you alright?”

 ‘Alright?  How could anyone be alright after hearing that about themself?’  He started to go into his mind palace to process all of this but then had this immediate urge to get away.  “I need to go.”  He murmured as he jumped up and opened the door.  Something stopped him and he turned to his family, “Thank you.  Thank you for telling me.”  Then he closed the door behind him and sprinted out of the complex.

o0oOOo0o

He was halfway to Baker Street when he remembered that his flat was in a state.  He nearly turned in the direction of Molly’s when he forced himself to stay the course.  Sure, he could spend a few hours sorting out things in his mind palace but maybe sorting out his flat would be a good distraction. 

It was where Molly found him after her shift at Bart’s.  When he hadn’t answered any of her texts she tried John, then Mrs. Hudson.  It was Mrs. Hudson who let her know where he was.  When Mrs. Hudson answered the door, she was beside herself.  “Molly dear, I’m so glad you’re here.  He’s a right mess.”  Molly’s eyes looked up in his direction.  “He’s been throwing things, yelling, talking to himself incessantly.  I tried offering him tea but I had to duck from the book that he threw.”

“Oh Mrs. Hudson!”  She exclaimed, shocked that he would do such a thing to her.

“The truth is dear, I don’t think he even saw me or heard me.  He seems to be in another place trying to work out his demons.”

Molly nodded in agreement.  “He probably is.  He had to meet today with Mycroft and his parents.  They were going to discuss Eurus and what’s to happen now.  I can’t imagine that was very easy for him.”

“So, he’s told you all of it then?”

“Not yet.  He’s told me a good bit but I think he still has more to share ……when he’s ready.”

Mrs. Hudson patted her hand.  “It’ll be alright dear.  No one is more clever than our Sherlock.  He’ll figure out a way to make this all right again.”

Biting her lip as she again looked up the stairs, she worried that this might alter who he is permanently.  She couldn’t help to wonder how that would alter them.

“I should probably ….” She pointed up the stairs.

“Yes, of course dear.  Just holler if you need anything.”

Molly did her best to ascend the staircase quietly, like a mouse.  She was good at that, scurrying in the background so no one would see her.  At the threshold, she stopped to observe him.  He was sitting on the floor cross-legged with his back to her while reverently looking through a book.  As she crept closer she realized it was a photo album.  This caused her to stop.  ‘Was she intruding?  Maybe he didn’t answer her texts because he didn’t want her here.’

About to back out she was stopped by his voice, “Stop vacillating Molly and come sit down.”  When she hadn’t moved, he turned in her direction with a weak smile on his face, “please.”

As soon as she sat down next to him he leaned in and kissed her cheek.  “Hello!”

Slightly bewildered he didn’t seem to be anything like the person Mrs. Hudson had just described to her.  ‘What could have changed?’  She looked over to the album in his lap and saw pictures of Sherlock when he was young.  “What do you have there?”  She gestured to the book.

Smiling he turned back to the photo album.  “I didn’t even remember I had it.  I found it under a pile of books and rubble.  Look here’s a picture of Victor and me!”  He seemed so excited.  They were both wearing black pirate hats, their swords raised high, Victor sporting an eyepatch.  She could see his dark, messy curls poking out from beneath the hat and his arm was wrapped around Victor’s shoulder.  She had never seen him so happy.  It made her smile to think that Sherlock was once that happy; that maybe he could be that happy once again.

“You look adorable!”  She giggled.

He gave her a fierce look, “Molly, pirates are not adorable!”

She didn’t stop smiling at him.  “Sorry to tell you this Sherlock, but those are two adorable pirates.”  He shocked her by sticking his tongue out at her.  This caused her to snort.

“Molly Hooper did you just snort?”  He acted affronted.

“Yep!”  She giggled back. 

He bumped into her shoulder as his gaze went back to the page.  She’d never seen him so playful, so ‘in the moment’.  It was nice.

Looking past his shoulder she began to peruse the photos.  “Who’s that?”  She pointed to an older, chubby kid. 

“Oh, that’s Mycroft!”  He says with a bit of delight in his voice.

“My..Mycroft?  That can’t be Mycroft?”  Molly stutters in astonishment.

Sherlock’s face is alight with glee.  “Oh yes, Mycroft was quite the eater back in those days.  He loves his sweets you know.  I used to call him ‘fatty’, still do sometimes.”  He teased.

“Oh, Sherlock!”  She smacked him on the arm.  “That is mean.”

“Even if it was true?”  He asked her shyly. 

“Even if.”  She returned but hid a smile when she was sure he wasn’t looking.

They passed the next hour as Sherlock would point to a picture then tell the story around it.  It was great fun for Molly.  She had never seen him like this, so open, so happy, so personal.  She’d never known him to talk so much about his family….ever.

Curiously there wasn’t one single photo of Eurus in the entire album.  She wanted to ask but he seemed so happy, and after what Mrs. Hudson had said, she decided to let it go for now. 

When he closed the book, he turned to her and asked, “Chips?”

Smiling back at him she nodded, “chips.”

Rising from the chaos he put the album on the bookshelf then turned and offered his hand to help her from the floor.  He surprised her by wrapping his arms around her and resting his head against her shoulder.  “Thank you Molly.”

o0oOOo0o

Sitting across from each other at the chip shop he caught her studying him.  His hand stopping with a chip halfway to his mouth he asks, “What?”

Realizing she was caught staring she shakes her head trying to focus her attention on the chips between them.  “Nothing.” She mumbles.

He reaches over taking her hand before she can pick up a chip, “No tell me.  What were you thinking just now?”

She blushes, not sure if it’s how comfortable he seems taking her hand these days or that he caught her staring at him.  “Um, it’s just you seem different.”

His eyes scrunch up in confusion.  “Different?  Different how?”

“I don’t know.”  She babbles as she plucks a chip from the tray.  “Just different.”

Sitting back in the chair, it’s his turn to stare at her trying to deduce what this means.  “Different, good?  Or bad?”  He finally ventures to ask.

Dabbing her face with a napkin she replies, “I think good.  I’m not sure…..just different.”

“Can you give me an example?”  He implores.

“Well, like earlier at your flat.  You were so open with me about your family, even your feelings for your family.  You’ve never done that before, at least not with me.”

Sitting there, back straight he relives the past few hours.  Seeing his ‘buffering’ face, as John likes to call it, she resumes eating her chips knowing he will come back to the conversation when he is ready.  He surprises her when he exclaims, “Hey where did all the chips go?” 

Smirking back at him she sheepishly admits, “Well you were gone a long time.  I was famished.”

Looking around the shop he realizes the other patrons have changed and night has most definitely descended upon them.  Embarrassed he croaks, “Sorry Molly.  I get caught up in my thoughts sometimes.”

Laughing she remarks, “Like I don’t already know that Sherlock.”

“Yes, well.  Should we be going?”  He asks as he rises.

Turning to look up at him she asks, “Of course.  Where to?”

“Home.”  He says as he takes her hand. 

She’s so shocked that he took her hand, in public that she doesn’t register what he said.  It’s not until they are in a cab heading to her place that she realized that he meant her flat.  ‘He called it home.’  She wasn’t sure how much she should read into that and just sat back against the seat of the cab still trying to process these last few days.

o0oOOo0o


	10. Everything….my whole life

When they arrived at her flat she busied herself making tea while he made himself at home on her sofa.  As she was bringing in the tea she noticed his mask descend.  He had been deep in thought, something was bothering him, but when he saw her he placed his mask of ‘everything is alright’ on.  She sighed deeply as she placed the tea in front of them.

Silently they prepared their tea, her trying to deduce him in the way he was always able to deduce her.  Settling back on the sofa she asked softly, “So do you want to tell me how your meeting with Mycroft and your parents went?”  He nearly spit out his tea.  ‘ _Got it in one, then_.’

She smiled his way as he looked rather distraught at the subject matter she proposed.  Inching closer to him she laid her hand on his arm.  “I’m here Sherlock.  Not just for funny stories and chips.  I’m here for all of it.  Whatever you need.”

Silently he nodded, then placed his tea back on the table.  He surprised her by laying down in her lap, his back to her and his head on her thighs.  Carefully she put her tea on the side table resting one hand onto his arm and the other against his curls.  Without thinking she began to run her fingers through his hair and that’s when he finally began to talk.  “I’ve never seen mummy so angry, especially at Mycroft.  He’s always been her favorite, mostly because he has always strived to make her happy.  But she was angry, properly angry with him.  Even in his seat of power in his private MI-6 lare I could see how it shook him.  He wasn’t used to being on that end of her wrath; that was always my place.”  He scrunched closer to her feeling her warmth, her comfort.

“I actually felt sorry for him, even defended him to mummy.”  He could hear her slight gasp at the shock.  “Yeah, even Mycroft was shocked.”

She wasn’t sure if she should interrupt him but she wanted to understand what was happening.  This seemed like such a pivotal moment in the brother’s relationship.  “What was your mum upset with Mycroft about?”

He stayed quiet for a few minutes and she wondered if she should have kept silent.  But then he answered, “Mycroft had taken over what our Uncle Rudy had begun many years before.  In many ways, he had no choice.  But when Eurus had burned down the asylum that she had been kept in he took it as an opportunity.  He had seen the toll that all that Eurus had done had taken on his parents so he thought he could spare them of it any further.  He told them that she had died in the fire.”  Molly gasped.  He rolled onto his back so he could look at her face when he asked.  “Was he wrong though Molly?  Wasn’t it a kindness to not know that your child was a psychopathic murderer?”

Her eyes full of sympathy for this dilemma that first Mycroft and now he had to endure.  “Perhaps it was if his motives were pure.”  Her hand still kneading his hair follicles.

He watched her for a few minutes before saying, “I believe they were.”

“Then I’m sure your mum will forgive him once she’s had time to think about it.  Mycroft does so much to protect his family.  Surely your mum can’t fault him for that.”  Sherlock eyes her with a raised eyebrow.  “Don’t give me that look you know he does.  You might not like how he does it sometimes but your big brother would do anything to keep you safe….even send you on a mission to the East.”  She knew that last line was a bit of a low blow but he needed to realize that Mycroft wasn’t his enemy but his strongest ally.  If the Holmes family was going to weather this latest storm than the brothers were going to need to count on one another.

He nodded understanding what she was trying to tell him but not quite ready to herald Mycroft’s actions, as of yet.  “He lied to me …..for years.”  He finally blurted.

“Lied to you?  About what?”

In barely a whisper he uttered, “Everything….my whole life.”

She adjusted herself so she could see him better than raised her hand to stroke his cheek.  “Tell me.”

“He knew….  He knew about Eurus, about Victor, about my whole childhood disappearing and he never told me.  Just kept his watch over me in case I started to remember.”

“Why do you think he did that?  She asked quietly trying to keep this difficult conversation calm.

He looked perplexed at the question.  “I don’t know.  He never said.”

“Did you ask him?”

“No.”

“Maybe you should.” She offered helpfully.

“Yes, maybe.”  He laid there trying to understand why Mycroft would have kept so much of his life from him.  He remembered the tears in his mum’s eyes as she told them how they hadn’t known what was done to him.  They hadn’t known how his memories were ripped from him until years after it had happened.  ‘ _Is that why?  Did Mycroft not tell him because too much time had passed?  What was it that they could have done anyways to retrieve them?  Was he trying to show him a kindness by not having him carry the burden of them as he tried to lift the burden of Eurus from his parents_?’

“I didn’t delete them.”  He blurted out after long minutes of silence.

Surprised by his utterance she could only answer, “Oh?”

“No, I know you think I’m cold, heartless and you wondered how I could have deleted my sister and my best friend.  But I didn’t they were taken from me.”

“What? How?”  Her hand rested against his cheek as her other kept raking through his curls calming the both of them.

“Uncle Rudy brought in a therapist who ‘relieved me of my difficult memories and emotions’.  Apparently everything that had to do with Eurus, Victor, and whether on purpose or by default most of my early childhood.”

“What?  On my god, Sherlock!”  She stared at him in shock not sure what else to say.

“I gather I was most reluctant to give up Trevor so they convinced me he was my Irish Setter, but I never had a dog.  I didn’t remember that until Eurus pointed out daddy’s allergies and how they always refused my request.  But for years I’ve remembered him, he runs around my mind palace, and all along he was a lie.”  At some point, he had entwined his fingers with hers and he took great comfort from the feel of her digits between his.

“Maybe I should have realized that Redbeard meant more than a dog.  Whenever I would think of him …it was painful or when I was in great pain I would go to him for comfort ….like when I was shot.  I should have realized that there was more to it than just a childhood pet dying.”  He seems to be blaming himself.

“Sherlock, I don’t think you’re being fair to yourself.  How could you have known that there was more to it?”

He stares into her eyes.  “But I did know.  I just didn’t understand what my mind, my emotions were trying to tell me.”

She gives him a soft look as she caresses his cheek.  “What do you mean?”

“Whenever I would think about Redbeard or someone would say his name, Mycroft, Moriarity…”  Her eyes widen at the name.  “I would become ….anxious, my pulse would race.  I don’t know.  It’s hard to describe.  Emotions aren’t my area and so whenever anything got difficult; I would stuff it behind a door in my mind palace and ignore it.”

“And now?”  She gently prods.

“And now what?”  He asks bewilderment etched across his face.

“And now are you going to deal with these emotions?”  He turned away from her staring across the flat.  Of course, that meant he was taking in the view of the kitchen and that stirred another set of emotions in him.  He chose to close his eyes.  “Sherlock?”  She gently prodded him hoping he wouldn’t go swanning off to his mind palace.

Turning back towards her, he opened his eyes.  He looked so young, so vulnerable.  She just wanted to take him in her arms and make it all better but she couldn’t, could she?  “How?  I don’t have any idea how to deal with all these emotions that seem to be bombarding me all at once.  It’s like Eurus opened the floodgates and I can’t stop them.”  She tightens her hold on his hand. 

“I remember Victor now.  I remember us playing pirates, us being together all the time.  I remember how I frantically searched for him.  How Eurus kept taunting me with that damn song, letting me know it was up to me to find him.  I tried and I tried but I never could…….”  The tears streaming down his face cause him to stop, to turn away from her, to try and hide his emotions, again.

Gently she turns his face back to her, carefully brushing the tears from his cheeks.  “Sherlock, this wasn’t your fault.  What she did wasn’t your fault.”

“But it was…don’t you see.  I was supposed to find him but I didn’t.  I couldn’t.  I was too slow.”

“Sherlock!”  She says a little forcibly.  “How old were you?

“Five, nearly six.”

“And do you really think it was the responsibility of a five year old to find another five year old?”  He bites his lower lip trying not to look at her.  “Where were your parents?  Victor’s parents?  Weren’t they looking for him too?”

“They were but they didn’t know….they didn’t know about Eurus and the song.”

“Why not?”

“Because I never told them.  I never told them that it had anything to do with Victor.”

“Why?”

“Because……”

“Because why?”

“Because I was afraid!  I was afraid!”  He tried to jump from the sofa but she wrapped her arms around him holding him in place.

Softly she asked, “What were you afraid of?”

“Eurus!  I was afraid of Eurus!  Because I knew whatever she had done it was because of me.”  She held him close, rocking him as she would baby Rosie trying to give him some comfort. 

As she held him, listening to his sobs, her heart broke.  She had never seen him this vulnerable, this broken before and she wasn’t sure if this was how to help him or not.  It occurred to her that he might need a professional but it was unlikely that he would ever open up to a therapist.  Knowing what she now did about his past experience with a therapist she wasn’t sure she could trust them either.

It took some doing but she got him off to bed.  When she slid in next to him she wasn’t surprised when he enfolded her in his arms bringing him close to her.  It felt right lying there in her bed with his arms around her.  Perhaps this is what they both needed.

o0oOOo0o


	11. Why Does This All Hurt So Much?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies that this update is a little later than I hoped. RL is not always convenient to writing, as we all wish it was. I will try to keep to a twice week update, but sometimes it might be once per week. Thank you for continuing to read (and comment).

The next morning on her way into Bart’s she texts Mycroft.

_We need to talk.  Today.  -Molly_

Normally she would never send such a demanding text to Mycroft but she needed answers and she needed them now.

_Noon.  South entrance.  -MH_

_Fine.  Not a word to Sherlock.  -Molly_

_Understood.  -MH_

o0oOOo0o

After Sherlock gets his shower he pulls on a pair of jeans with a button-down shirt.  He was feeling a bit underdressed but he didn’t have another suit at Molly’s.  It occurred to him that he might need to bring some items over from Baker Street. 

Before going to Baker Street, he wanted to stop by John’s to spend some time with Rosie.  He’d missed her in those weeks that John had barred him from their lives.   He seems to crave the simple, honest love that a baby can give.  No complications, no real expectations.  He’s also rather hoping that John is around since he could do with some of his advice right about now.

When he arrives at John’s he lets himself in with the key that he had given him.  Rosie’s sitter greets him letting him know that John is at the clinic for another couple of hours and that Rosie should be getting up from her nap soon. 

He makes himself a cup of tea before taking it into the lounge.  The color of the wallpaper catches his eye and it takes him back to the day that they had brought Rosie home.  Everyone was smiles and happy, taking pictures, and he was ignoring it all.  ‘ _Why?  What was more important than that at that moment_?’  He sat down thinking about how he had spent these last few months.  Like a man possessed; he had to solve case after case.  _‘Why?  What was that really about?_ ’

As he sipped his tea he remembered with mortification how he didn’t even stop at the christening, constantly texting on his phone, even during that sacred ceremony.  Yes, it wasn’t sacred to him but it was to John and Mary, and Rosie.  ‘ _Why am I always such a prick?_ ’

He remembered Molly’s admonishments to him to put the phone away, and even then, he didn’t, not really.  ‘ _Why?  What was really behind all that?_ ’

Thinking about Molly he pictured how she looked that day and he smiled.  Her bright colors and her bright smiles.   He remembered thinking how pretty she looked, not that he ever said.  Later when they took pictures he was sure to get close to her, taking in her scent.  It occurred to him that he has always sought her out.  ‘ _Has she always been that for me?  My home place?_ ’  He wonders to himself.

He is pulled from his thoughts by the squeals of his goddaughter coming down the stairs.  Rising up he meets her at the bottom of the stairs.  “Hello Rosamund, did you enjoy your nap?”  He asks as he takes her from her nanny.  Pulling her to his chest, with one hand at her back rubbing circles, he breathes her in.  A calm washes over him with the innocence of her smile.

Taking her to her play mat he engages with her as he builds blocks and she happily knocks them down.  When she tires of that he teases her with her stuffed bunny as it gives her kisses all over.  The joy in her laughter seems to piece his weary heart back together, for now. 

He’s lying on his back stretching Rosie above him then bringing her down for kisses when John walks in.  Stunned, he stops to watch sure that he must be dreaming.  But sure enough he hears the delightful squeals of his daughter and sees the absolute joy on his best friend’s face.  His heart clenches when he feels Mary beside him whisper in his ear, “I told you they’d be good for each other.”

He’s pulled from his daze thinking about Mary when he hears Sherlock say, “There’s your daddy.”  He comes back to himself in time for Sherlock to have ‘airplaned’ Rosie over to him.

“Hey there Rosie, have you and Uncle Sherlock been having a good time?”  He asks her.  When he looks over to Sherlock he seems to be buffering again so he turns his attention back to his daughter.  They sit down on the play mat where he hands her a brightly colored ring.  She promptly puts it in her mouth and he smiles.

A few minutes later Sherlock joins them on the floor, he seems preoccupied with putting the colored rings on their post.  When John looks over to him, he finally says, “Uncle?  You called me Uncle Sherlock?”  Sherlock would not meet his eyes as he continued to stack the colored rings. 

“Is that not what you want to be called?  I thought that was tradition for godfathers.”  John spoke unsure what was bothering Sherlock about the moniker.

Finally looking up from the colorful rings, “I wasn’t sure if you still wanted me to be her godfather, after ….everything.”

“Of course, I do ….we do.”  He looked at him intently.  “Mary and I chose you not just because you’re my best friend but also because we know that you would protect her with your life.  I can’t think of anyone else I would trust more to be her godfather.”

Sherlock nodded in acknowledgement of his trust.  At that moment, Rosie started to fuss, and John pulled her to his chest.  “I think you need a nappie change little one.”  He rises from the mat to take her upstairs when Sherlock speaks.

 “Thank you.  I wasn’t sure if I still had your trust.”  He looks up at them both grateful that they are in his life, still.

“Of course.”  John says quickly before leaving with Rosie.

o0oOOo0o

When he comes back, sans Rosie, he suggests they go down the street to the pub for fish and chips.  Sitting across from one another each with a lager waiting for their order John tries to determine where Sherlock’s head is but honestly with all that is gone on he’s not even sure where his own is these days.

“So how are you doing with ….everything?”  He finally asks as he takes a sip of his brew.

Sherlock seems to wake from his mind palace, leaning on the table, toying with his mug.  “It’s been…um …it’s been difficult.”

“Wow.”  John was surprised at his honesty.

He gives John a strange look, “What did you think it wouldn’t be?”

“No, I just didn’t expect you to tell me the truth.”

“Touché!”  He acknowledges as he drinks more of his lager.  “I’m not used to talking about feelings, especially my own and it seems that is all I’ve done for the last several days.”

“With Molly?” He inquires.

“Mostly yes.”

“How is she ….after?”  He hesitates.

“You mean after I broke her into a million pieces?”  He states.  John gives him a sympathetic look.

“Well at first she was pretty angry, ordered me out of her flat.”  John’s eyes widen at the thought of Molly’s anger.  “But we’ve been talking and I think she understands.”

“…and what does she understand Sherlock?”  He’s sure his friend has somehow manipulated her again.

Their interrupted by the server bringing their order of fish and chips.  Sherlock takes the opportunity to take a large bite before he has to answer.

But several minutes later it becomes obvious that John’s not going to let it alone.  “What did you tell her Sherlock?”

Staring into his eyes he states, “The truth.”

His eyes widen again, “all of it?”

“Well, a good bit.  There’s still a lot to discuss.”  He tries to be evasive.  He’s not comfortable letting John know how vulnerable he’s been these last few days.

“…and the phone call?  Does she understand about the phone call?”

“Yes, I believe so.  I’ve explained it to her but I think she’s still having a hard time believing me.”

“Believing you about what?”

He stops his movements and stares at his friend, “Believing that I really do love her.”  John’s jaw drops.  “Oh, come now John surely you figured that out by now.”

“Yes, I had.  I..I wasn’t so sure you had.”  Sherlock smiles at him and he smiles back.  “So, how’s that going?”

“We’re friends again.  I can confide in her and I trust her.  I can tell she’s still a bit unsure about me, about whether my feelings are genuine.  I can’t really blame her.  I haven’t exactly acted the part of a friend lately.”  He nibbled on a chip as he looked out the pub window.

Carefully he asks, “Friends?  Is that all you want to be with her?” 

He brings his gaze back to John, “No, but that’s all she’s ready for right now.”

“But…”

“And I have a lot to work out too John.  It wouldn’t be fair to Molly to engage in a romantic relationship when my head, my emotions are in such a state.”

“But you do want a romantic relationship with her?”

“Isn’t that just what I said?”

He nodded in agreement.  “Did you know before …before Sherrinford?”

“Did I know I had feelings for Molly?”  John nods as he takes a drink.  “I think I knew that I had feelings for her that were different than the kind of feelings I have for you, or Rosie, or Mrs. Hudson but I’m not sure I understood them.  I’m not sure I identified them as love.”

“What changed?”

“That phone call.”

“When I was facing the very real possibility that Molly might be taken from me I knew I would do anything to keep that from happening.  I’ve never been so scared of anything in my whole life …..and I once jumped off a building.”  His laugh bordered on hysterical.

“Mate, you alright?”  John’s eyes soften, genuinely concerned.

“No.”  He shook his head.  “No, I don’t think I am.  Why does this all hurt so much?”

Confused, he asks, “Hurt?  What hurts?”

“Emotions….feelings…their just so, so messy.” 

“Yes mate, they are.”

o0oOOo0o


	12. That Must Have Been Hard

At exactly noon, Molly exited the south entrance to find a darkened black car waiting for her.  As she approached the driver opened the back door for her and she slid inside.  Expecting to see Mycroft she was surprised when only Anthea and her trusty Blackberry were there.  “Hello Anthea.” 

Resting her hands, and Blackberry, in her lap Anthea acknowledged her as well.  “I expected to see Mycroft.  Is he playing his games again?”  She didn’t mean to sound so cold but she wasn’t in the mood for his cloak and danger.

“The Boss will meet you at the café.  He thought you might like lunch as it is your lunch hour.” 

The kindness in her voice caught her off guard plus that was the longest she had ever seen Anthea not interact with her phone.  “Um, yes, well, thank you.  That would be nice.”

“I’ll be sure to let him know.”  She resumed her furious typing and the back seat remained silent for the remainder of the trip.  When they stopped, the driver opened her door.  “The Boss will be waiting inside for you.”  Anthea said without looking up from her Blackberry or making any attempt to follow her.

“Of course.”  Molly mumbled as she moved towards the café entrance.  Not surprisingly the place was empty except for his minions at the door, and Mycroft at a center table.

As she approached he rose from his chair gesturing to the one opposite him, “Doctor Hooper, so glad you could join me.”

“Well, I was the one to call _you_ after all.”  She stated the obvious as she took her seat.

“Quite true.  Tea?”  She nodded as she pulled out of her coat.  “I took the liberty of ordering you a salad and a club sandwich.  I hope that is to your liking?”

“Yes, that’s fine.”  She said quickly as she sipped her tea.

He noticed her distress and wondered how much she knew, “Now what can I help you with?”

“Sherlock.”  She stated as if that should tell him everything he needed to know.

“Well, that’s a pretty tall order.  Is there something specific?”

The tea had calmed her and it helped her remember why she wanted to meet with the man his brother referred to as the British Government.  “I want to know what happened to him ….as a child?”

Mycroft looked down, taking a deep breath he leaned forward.  “How much has he told you?”

It didn’t surprise her that he knew that they had been in contact, afterall he did have a security detail on her.  “It’s not so much what he’s told me as what he’s not.  The parts I don’t think he knows yet or isn’t willing to face.”

He closed his eyes hoping he wouldn’t have to say more but he had always underestimated Dr. Hooper.  Her intelligence and perceptiveness is most likely why his brother cares for her so deeply.  As the server sits her salad in front of her, he leans forward resting his elbows at the edge of the table.  His hands rub over one another as he tries to decide what he should say.  “I assume he’s told you about Victor, and the riddle?”  She nods as she takes a bite of salad.  “and Eurus burning down our home?”

“Yes, and the asylum that she had been taken to.”

He nods.  “After Victor’s loss, Sherlock was devastated.  He wouldn’t eat, drink, or sleep.  He kept fixating on the riddle, sure if he figured it out that Victor would come back.  But it became apparent that Victor was gone as Eurus began to refer to him as ‘drowned Redbeard’.”  She placed her fork down next to her salad unsure if she could eat another bite.

“Mummy and Father were beside themselves with what to do.  In addition, Eurus’ behavior was becoming more and more peculiar.”

“Peculiar, how?”

“She would draw pictures of Sherlock and Victor over and over again.  Sometimes something violent happened to them in the drawings, other times she would do something violent to the drawings.  At first it was just mashing her crayons into their pictures, then it was stabbing them with her scissors.  Finally, she decided to burn them.  That’s when she burned Musgrave to the ground.”

Looking over to Mycroft with his head weighing heavy against his hand she could feel how the guilt of all of this weighed him down.  Reaching across the table, she took his other hand, causing him to jolt upright.  “Mycroft, this was not your responsibility, it never was.”

He nodded at her but she could see he didn’t believe her words.  “Mycroft, how old were you when this was happening?”

“Twelve or thirteen.”

“Would you hold a thirteen-year-old boy accountable for the actions of his five year old sister?”

“No, but ….”

“No buts.   You’re were still a child.”  He rolled his eyes at her.  “Well as much a child as either of the Holmes brothers ever could have been.”  He smirks at her.  “This was for the adults, your parents to deal with.  What did they do?”

“They had her taken away.”  He looks stricken when he says it as if the pain of her loss just occurred. 

“That must have been hard.”  Her voice soft and gentle.

“Yes, yes it was.  Mummy and Father moved us out to the cottage in Sussex.  It had been our summer home but they thought a complete change would be good for all of us.”  His eyes seemed to see a past far, far away.

“And was it?  Good for you?”  She gently prodded.

“Not really.  Sherlock became hysterical at the thought of leaving Musgrave, and Victor.  He begged and begged to stay but we really didn’t have any choice.  Even if we didn’t go to the cottage there was no home left at Musgrave.”

Cautiously she asked, “What happened when you left?” 

Looking at her for the first time since he began he said, “He shut down.  He refused to eat, to sleep, to communicate with anyone.  Looking back, it would make sense that he was probably building his mind palace, still trying to find a way to bring Victor back.”

“What did your parents do?”

“My father’s brother, like myself, held a minor position in the British government.  They turned to him for advice as to what to do for both Sherlock and Eurus.  Later when I had a high enough security clearance I learned what he had done.  He recognized that Eurus could be ‘useful’ to the Empire so he had her locked away in a high security asylum for the criminally insane.”

“Sherringford?”

“Sherringford.”

“But she was only a little girl.”

“Yes, but a little girl who had already killed one child and nearly killed her entire family.  Did I need to mention that we were all at home when she started the fire?”

“No, no I understand, I do.  It’s just ….”

“It’s just you are a kind-hearted person and it breaks your heart to think that this child was isolated from anyone who might still love her.”

“Yes.”  She sniffles.

“Believe it or not Doctor Hooper I share your compassion for my sister but what’s done is done.  Even by the time I became aware of the situation it had gone on for over a decade.  There wasn’t much I could do to undo the damage that was already done.  But when the asylum that my parents thought that Eurus was placed in burned down; I thought it was an opportunity to lift their burden.  I told them that she had died in the fire.”

“That’s what Sherlock said.”

“Do you think me wrong for making such a choice?”

Sitting back, she gazes upon this man who for so long has appeared every bit the ‘Ice Man’ image.  But that’s not who she sees looking back at her.  This man seems broken by his choices, by the choices of his sister, and he is haunted by them.  “I have no say in this, Mycroft.  I can’t imagine how difficult it has been for you all these years watching over your sister, your brother, while keeping such a secret from them and your parents.  But I know that you would not have made this decision lightly.”

He nodded slightly accepting her grace.

While they had been talking, her sandwich had arrived.  She picked at it but she wasn’t really sure she was hungry anymore.  “What about Sherlock?”  She finally said.

“As I had said, Sherlock had withdrawn into himself.  Uncle Rudy had recommended a therapist and my parents thought that was a wise course of action.  I remember Uncle Rudy would come and escort Sherlock to his appointments himself.  At the time, it didn’t strike me as odd but it probably should have.”

She tilted her head in confusion.

“I hadn’t been permitted to see Sherlock’s files even with my high security clearance until after Uncle Rudy had departed.  I would imagine that it would surprise even you that I was shocked at what they contained.”

He hesitated before going forward.  “Doctor Hooper, what I am about to tell you is highly classified and you cannot breathe a word of it to anyone.  Is that understood?”  The Ice Man hath returned.

“Yes..yes, I understand.”

Leaning again on the table, he began.  “The doctor my uncle took him to treated him with a number of experimental treatments: drug therapy, hypnotherapy, and electric shock.”

“Electric shock?!”  She exclaimed.

“Yes, their ‘techniques’ were designed to remove certain memories from the subject.  In Sherlock’s case, Eurus, Victor, and Musgrave.”

“Oh!”  Her hands fold against her mouth as if to keep anything else from escaping.  “Does he know?”

Mycroft nods.  “Our mother told him yesterday when we met.”

“I see.”  She nods as if crafting an understanding.

Mycroft focused his gaze on her trying to deduce what she ‘sees’.  In a way that astounds both the Holmes brothers, Molly gets what he is doing.  “He talked to me about some of this last night but I could tell he was leaving something out.  I suppose learning that your family ‘deleted’ much of your childhood would take some time to absorb.”

Sitting back in his chair looking rather chastised he nodded in silence.  After several minutes had passed in silence she asked, “Mycroft, why is Sherlock going to a therapist a highly classified secret?”

He raised his eyebrows whether in surprise that she asked or that she thought to she wasn’t sure.  When he didn’t answer, she surmised, “Oh so this was one of those doctors that did other things for your uncle?”

“and Queen and country.”  He added.  She nodded in understanding and asked no more.  He was grateful for that.

Checking the time on her phone she realizes she’s gone way past her lunch hour.  “Well, I should be getting back.”  Quickly she gathers her things to head out.

Mycroft pulls his phone from his jacket sending a short text.  “Do not worry, Dr. Hooper.  I have informed Dr. Stamford that you were needed for urgent business.  He’s not expecting you for another thirty minutes.”

Stopping in her preparations to leave she turns to him.  “Thank you, Mycroft.”  He raises an eyebrow as if to ask why.  “Thank you for meeting with me and helping me understand what Sherlock is trying to work through.”

He stands, buttoning his jacket over his waistcoat, “No, thank you Molly for caring enough for my brother to want to help him.”  He hesitated, then, “I know that what my sister put both of you through was not pleasant.” 

She gasped.  She hadn’t given any thought that anyone else knew what had happened during that phone call but of course Mycroft isn’t just anyone.  

He surprised her by offering his arm to her to escort her back to the car.  “I may have to concede that I have been wrong.  You may just be the one person who can prove to me that ‘caring is an advantage’.

o0oOOo0o


	13. Molly was Home

When she arrived back at her flat she wasn’t surprised to find Sherlock Holmes spread out on her sofa.  He looked to be peacefully rummaging around in his mind palace.  Leaving him to it, she made her way to her bedroom.  Without delay she changed out of her work clothes into her robe.  Scurrying across the hall to the washroom she quickly drew a bath. 

Today had been a long day with several autopsies and loads of paperwork.  As she eased into the warm bath she hoped it would take away her aches and pains along with her worries.  Her meeting with Mycroft had given her some answers but it didn’t really ease her mind.  Knowing what had been done to Sherlock to make him forget large portions, important portions of his life, didn’t make her feel any better.  She suspected that was true of Sherlock as well.

After a while the water turned cold and she felt ready to face her evening.  Pulling the stopper, she rose and dried herself off catching sight of her body in the mirror.  She didn’t usually look at herself naked, too self-conscious to take more than a glance.  But today, she felt differently.  She wondered how Sherlock saw her, not that he ever saw her naked but how would he perceive her naked form.  Her mind went back to that Christmas when he identified ‘The Woman’, as John had dubbed her in his blog, by not-her-face.  She was gorgeous, even with her face all bashed in.  Quickly covering herself up she felt stupid thinking that Sherlock might desire her when she was in no way the beauty that was Irene Adler.

Rushing into her bedroom she went to her closet fetching casual clothes for an evening at home.  As she undid the sash, she heard a cough behind her.  Whipping around, there was Sherlock stretched on her bed watching her every move.

“Sherlock!”  Quickly she tightened her dressing gown while trying to will the blush in her cheeks away.

His eyes took in her blush and knew just what she was thinking.  “Don’t be self-conscious Molly, you are beautiful!”  His eyes roamed from her wet tresses that had broken free when the towel around her head fell to the floor.  He could see droplets of water glistening off her skin through the tiny gap in her dressing gown.  His mind urged his lips to kiss those droplets, to bring them together with his tongue.  Now he was the one blushing, feeling an uncomfortable tightness in his jeans.   “Come, come lie down with me.”

She bit her lower lip as she made up her mind as to whether this was a good idea or not.  His genuine smile won her over and she found herself sliding on top of the duvet next to him.  Immediately he pulled her close pressing his face into her hair, breathing her in.  Feeling her close, taking in her scent calmed him in ways drugs never could.  Leaning back, he smiled at her before taking her lips in his, melting into her form, giving himself over to her, mind, body, everything.  He was hers.  It was at that moment that he realized that there was no one he trusted more.  Perhaps that is why when everything had gone to shite in his life she was the one person he sought out.

Needing to breathe, wishing he didn’t, he parted from her but found one more breathe to say, “I love you.”  Then rested his forehead against hers as he waited for air to fill his lungs again.

She stilled in his arms at his words, still unable to fully believe them.  It had been so long that her own heart knew that was what she felt for him.  But she had long ago resigned that his heart was not capable of such feeling, and even if it was she was the last person he would give it to. 

When she started to pull away, he tightened his arms around her.  “No, Molly Hooper, you do not get to run away from this.  I think we’ve done quite enough of that, don’t you?”  Slowly she raised her eyes to his.  The smile on his face made his eyes crinkle and they seemed so bright and twinkly as he looked at her.  For a moment, she feared he was high.  Seeing her conclusion he added, “And I’m not high ….well, except on you.”  He turned them so she was underneath him and he could feel the press of her body against his obvious erection. 

Finally, he had the opportunity to kiss down her neck working his way to the water droplets he had seen on her chest earlier.  They had long dried but the taste of her honey vanilla bath salt adhered to his tongue giving him another sensation of his Molly to take back to his mind palace. 

Slowly he undid her sash distracting her with kisses to her skin. With his nose, he pushed the edge of the gown to reveal her breast.  He didn’t give her a chance to cover it back up as his lips anointed them with exploring kisses.  His eyes never left hers as he first kissed, then pulled her nipple into his mouth.  He wanted her to know, No, needed her to know how much he desired her, and only her. 

As he took the other breast into his mouth, an alarm went off on his phone.  Crumbling against her, he let out a frustrated sigh.  It took her a moment in her daze to register the sound of the alarm but she began to urgently push on him to get up.  “Sherlock, what is it?”

Looking up at her the panic on her face caused him to laugh, hysterically.  Not understanding, she pushed at him further.  “Sherlock, what is going on?”

Still laughing, he fell onto his back next to her but reached over to finally still the shrill of his mobile alarm.  She sat up next to him but he was disappointed that she had pulled her dressing gown closed and was quickly tying the sash.  His hands curled around her stilling them.  “Molly nothing is wrong.”

“Then, wha-at?”  She stuttered.

“It simply means that dinner is ready.  I’m sorry that my timing was a bit ..off.”  He smiled sheepishly.   “You finish getting dressed and I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”  With a swift kiss, he hopped off the bed but she couldn’t help but notice the prominent bulge pressing against his tight jeans. 

Sitting there at the edge of the bed, she relived the last few minutes.  ‘Sherlock kissed me!’  The tips of her fingers followed the path that his lips had just taken moments before stopping to rest on her breast.  She heard his words again as their kiss had ended, “I love you.”  This didn’t sound like a man who was being forced to say them.  The way he had looked at her as he had taken her nipple into his mouth.  She could not have dreamed that because it was a look of desire that she never thought Sherlock was capable of. 

As she removed her gown and began to dress she still felt his hands, his lips on her.  It made her blush again at what he could do to her.  Then as she pulled on her own jeans she thought of how tight his had become.  ‘I did that!’  She smiled to herself as she moved into the loo to finish preparing herself for dinner.  ‘Dinner?  Did he make dinner?’

o0oOOo0o

As soon as Sherlock entered the kitchen he went to the fridge, pulled out a bag of frozen peas, shoved them down his trousers, and sank against the counter.  Closing his eyes, he tried to will his erection away but the taste of her on his tongue brought it alive again.  In an effort to not be a sexual pervert and take her over the kitchen table, for their first time, he grabbed at the bottle of whiskey slugging back a gulp.

The shock of the harsh liquor and his nether regions becoming frozen allowed him to resume the final preparations of dinner.  Before he plated their food, he returned the peas to the freezer making a mental note to never eat peas at Molly’s house, ever.

She padded into the kitchen as he was taking the plates to the table.  Stopping to take in the sight of her, he saw a smiling Molly wearing her brightest, cheeriest jumper.  He smiled back at her, knowing that she wore that one when she was feeling especially happy. 

Without giving it a thought he gave her a peck on her lips asking her, “Would you bring in the wine?”

Licking her lips, she tasted the whiskey on his that had not been there before.  Smirking she gathered the wine and the glasses from the kitchen counter.  From the counter, she watched him as he placed their food on an already set table.  ‘Who was this man who looked so much like Sherlock but had only previously existed in her dreams?’

Bringing the wine to the table his eyes caught hers and the smile he gave her made her blush.  It reminded her of the one he gave her while she was half-naked in his arms.  He seemed to come to the same conclusion and dropped his eyes down at his meal.

She did the same noticing for the first time what he had made.  “Sherlock, is this beef bourguignon?” She asked while quickly picking up her fork to taste it.  Closing her eyes, she savored the taste of the wine mixed with the beef and the vegetables.  “This is delicious!”  His face beamed with pride until she asked, “What restaurant is it from?  I might like to order this again.”

“Doctor Hooper…”  He stated indignantly causing her head to quickly rise to look at him.  “I’ll have you know I made this entirely myself….well, except the croissants.  I’m rubbish at baking so I picked them up at that little place near John’s.”

“You….you made this?”  She asks incredibly.

“Yes, why is that so hard to understand?  It’s simple chemistry which I do have a graduate degree in, as you well know.”

“I didn’t think you had any idea how to use anything in the kitchen except the kettle, and possibly the microwave but then that seemed to only be for experiments….”  She trailed off as she saw his crest-fallen face.  “I’m sorry Sherlock.  I had no idea that you were such a wonderful cook.”

“Chef.”  He stated.

“Sorry, chef.”  She smiled at him and he finally gave in and smiled too.  Taking another bite she made a show of savoring it before asking.  “So where did you learn how to cook like this, from your mum?”

“My mum?  God, no.  She would never let me in her kitchen.  She was always telling us boys to get out of her kitchen so Mycroft, father, and I would all scatter to find something to do until she called us for the meal.”

“That’s a shame, some of my fondest memories of my mum are us cooking or baking in the kitchen.”  She recollected a time long, long ago.

“Well, and after last Christmas she’s probably not going to let me in anytime soon either.”  He quirked an eye at her.

“Why?  What happened last Christmas?”  She was confused, trying to remember if he had already told her a story about last Christmas.

“That was when I drugged everybody so I could steal Mycroft’s laptop.”  He recounted.

Her face in shock, she gasped, “What?!?  You what?”

Stopping his fork midway he realized he never finished that story the other night.  “It was for the Magnussen case.”  He waved his hand in the air.  “I’ll tell you another time.”  He didn’t want this evening tainted by the likes of Charles Augustus Magnussen.

“OK”, she said tightly also not wanting to remember that case with him and Janine, and drugs, and getting shot.  “So where did you learn how to make this delectable meal?”  When he looked up, her eyes were twinkling at him and he was able to leave that vile man behind.

“When I was dead.”  He paused when he saw the pained look on her face.  “Sorry.  When I was tearing apart Moriarty’s network I often had to take odd jobs, for the money, and also to get close to people who had the information I needed.   I had befriended the French chef while working at the restaurant as a waiter.”  Her eyes boggled at the thought of Sherlock interacting with people as a waiter.  Catching her surprise, he added.  “It’s not so hard to believe, Molly, the French are known for their surly attitudes.  No one seemed to notice.”  She giggled at that.  He smiled back at her as he took a sip of his wine.  Hearing Molly Hooper giggle might be the best sound in the world.

“Anyways, after I caught the sous chef sabotaging his recipes he took a great liking to me.  As I was waiting for intel from Mycroft to proceed I had time on my hands.  I had him teach me his craft.  After I understood the chemistry of cooking, it didn’t seem that difficult.”  He shrugged his shoulders.

“Well, it seems you learned your culinary lessons well.”  She stated as she relished another bite.

“Yes, indeed.  It ended up saving my life a few times as I often ended up places where there was no other option but to fend for myself.”

“Your talents continue to amaze me Sherlock Holmes!”  She says giggling behind a forkful of beef.

o0oOOo0o

After the washing up, they both fell onto the sofa to watch some crap telly and just hold on to one another.  He didn’t try to continue what they had started earlier and she wasn’t sure why.  Trying hard not to read too much into it she enjoyed their comfortable lounging on the sofa.  Her thoughts drifted to her conversation with Mycroft earlier and she settled herself closer to him.  His thoughts pinged from John to Mycroft, to Eurus, to Victor, to his parents, to Molly.  Eventually his thoughts always came back to Molly and he couldn’t stop himself from pulling her closer and placing a kiss on her temple.  No matter what else was shite in his life; Molly was home.

o0oOOo0o


	14. Emotions Have Never Been His Area

The next day John meets Sherlock at Baker Street to see what is salvageable before Mycroft’s crew takes over.  It is a quiet process as they sift through debris in an effort to find something untouched or only slightly damaged from Eurus’ bomb.  Finding his steer head on the floor, he’s pleased that it is only dirty – no damage.  As he turns to show it to John, he is surprised that at that moment he had found the headphones that had been on it since he put them there at least two years ago, now.  It only seemed fitting that they should be put back on.

It all seemed so odd but then what hasn’t felt odd in these past months.  As he turns his chair over he remembers that painful conversation he and John had that ended in John’s tears.  Sherlock is still astounded that apparently, he knew the right thing to do.  Emotions have never been his area but something told him that John needed him.  Maybe he should thank Rosie for teaching him that.  He seemed to know how to comfort her when she cried.

Looking in John’s direction he can see he is having his own memory.  He hopes its one of their better ones.  Slowly they pack up the things that they are keeping; making trip after trip to 221C where they will be stored until the reconstruction is complete.  Luckily the explosion had mostly been contained to the upper level.  So except for some ceiling plaster repairs, that have already been completed, Mrs. Hudson’s flat had no living restrictions.

Unfortunately, that was not the case for 221B.  The inspectors informed him that no one could live in the flat until it had been fully repaired.  Sherlock grumbled outwardly but he hadn’t really planned on leaving Molly’s anyway.  After John left to go to the clinic he headed back to his bedroom to pack.

Lying on his bed, he let his mind drift over these past few months.  He supposed it all started on Christmas Day when he shot Magnussen.  No, if he was honest it went back further than that to when Mary shot him.  No, it was Janine, no John finding him in that drug den, no Molly slapping him, no seeing Molly with her fiancé at John’s wedding.  John’s wedding, that is when all this madness started.

He had been happy for John.  Mary was wonderful and she seemed to understand his need for an adrenalin rush.  She never tried to stop John from accompanying him on their little adventures.  In fact, she encouraged it.  Despite the fact that he was going to miss having John as a flatmate he was happy for his friend.  But he had felt adrift.  He had even procured a hit of cocaine that he kept hidden inside of his Persian slipper. 

He hadn’t succumbed to his addiction then as Lady Smallwood had presented him with a complex case that he threw himself into.  Imagine his surprise when he discovered, with minimum research that Janine, Mary’s bridesmaid was Magnussen’s personal assistant.  He didn’t even have to work to get her number as she had put it in his mobile the evening of the wedding.  Before he called her, he did some research on current dating practices and expectations.  Dating definitely wasn’t his area but he was going to need to make this believable in order for Janine to grant him access to her boss’ office.

What he hadn’t taken into consideration is how far Janine would expect him to go in their personal relationship.  It wasn’t that he was a virgin, despite what Mycroft might believe but it wasn’t something he indulged himself in.  Back at university he experimented.  It was pleasurable but he always felt vulnerable to the other person.  That was a position that Sherlock was never comfortable being in.

It was the main reason he continually declined The Woman’s invitation to ‘dinner’.  Considering her profession, she would expect to have the upper hand.  That was never going to happen.

As he reflects he realizes that whenever he needed to get away from Janine or received a text from Irene he sought out Molly.  He’d go to her place claiming he needed a bolthole or find her at Bart’s, asking her to help with an experiment.  Even before he knew how he felt about her, Molly was always his person, the one he needed.

 Smiling he rose from the bed to finish his packing.  He couldn’t wait to move into Molly’s flat. 

o0oOOo0o

_Unfortunately_ , he neglected to ask or even tell Molly that that was his plan.  She came home to find him pulling half of her clothes from her closet to make room for his.  “Sherlock, what the hell are you doing?”

He turned around with an armful of her dresses and suits looking rather sheepish.  “Well, there wasn’t any room for my clothes.” 

“That’s because it’s MY CLOSET!”  She bellowed at him.  Pushing him aside she pulled the garments from his arms and began to re-hang them in her closet.

“But where are MY clothes going to go?”  He yelled back at her.

Turning around with her hands on her hips she shouted, “In your OWN closet, in your OWN flat!”

She had quickly turned back around to organize her closet so she missed his crestfallen look.  “So you don’t want me then?”  The sound of his voice, so young, so vulnerable stopped her in her movements.

“Sherlock…” she started to say as she turned around.  The look on his face made her freeze.  In the near decade she had known him she had never seen him look so dejected, so forlorn, even when he was out of options with Moriarity.  Slowly she walked over to where he stood at the bottom of the bed.  Grazing her hand against his cheek, he finally looked up from the floor.  “Sherlock, of course I want you.”  A sigh of relief shook him and he practically enveloped her within his arms.

Soon she felt his lips leaving butterfly kisses against her neck, then along her jawline, until they finally found her lips.  His passion for her seemed to overtake him as he lifted her into his arms and laid them down on the bed.  Soon she was pushing at his chest, sputtering, “can’t breathe”.

“Sorry”, He whispered into her ear, “I just want you so badly.”

Molly was so confused.  Although these are words she had dreamed of Sherlock saying to her, in this very bed, she still couldn’t comprehend where this was all coming from.  Pushing him to her side she squirmed off the side of the bed. 

“Molly?”  He didn’t understand.  He had declared his love for her.  Isn’t this what she wanted?

She was pacing back and forth in the small area at the bottom of her bed, the area made even smaller by his suitcase lying there.  She stopped several times to look at him but resumed her pacing unable to find the words.  Finally, she leaned against the footboard, her hands wrapped tight around the white metal.  “Sherlock, what are we?”

Now he was confused.  “I don’t understand, we’re Sherlock and Molly.”

“But who are we to each other?”  He could see the uncertainty on her face as she bit at her bottom lip.

He crawled to the foot of the bed and sat before her silently holding out his hands asking her to place hers on his.  When she did he began, “Molly we are two people who were always supposed to be together except that one us (me) was too afraid to care for anyone else.”  He stopped for a moment, processing.  “I wonder now if it all goes back to Victor.  I loved him and he was taken from me.”  He says reflectively, shakes his head, then looks again into her eyes. 

“Molly, I know that you have loved me for a very long time.  I counted on it, I needed it, even though I would never acknowledge it.  What I’ve come to realize is that I have loved you as long as well, probably since the first day you said hi to me at Bart’s.”  She gasped at his admission.  “I know I’m an idiot when it comes to feelings and I’m sure I’m not done messing this up but never ever doubt that I love you.” 

Pulling her closer he raised up on his knees so that he could caress her cheek.  “I am nothing without you.  You have waited for me for so long.  It seems it is my turn to wait for you.  Take all the time you need but please Molly Hooper, please don’t leave me.”  He kissed her forehead, then rested his head against hers.

Tears were streaming down her face and her head was spinning.  ‘Could he really want the same thing she wanted?’  “Sherlock, are saying you want us to be a couple?”

Pulling back so he could see her better he responded, “well, yes, isn’t that what people do who love each other?”

“But your you and I’m just mousy Molly and…..”  She didn’t get to go any further because he had pulled her closer pressing his chest into hers.

“Molly don’t you ever talk about yourself like that.  You are not _just_ anything.  You are magnificent!  From the first time I watched you perform an autopsy I was enthralled.  Your precision with a scalpel, your meticulous habits of documentation and thoroughness are unmatched by any pathologist I have ever worked with.”  She was about to protest when he continued.  “But that is not what makes you magnificent Molly.  It’s the care and compassion you show your patients.  Their dead and yet you treat them as if they are aware of your every action.  I’ve seen you with their families.  You take on their grief so the burden is not so great for them.”  He kisses her forehead again cradling her in his arms.

“Molly, you could have looked at me like everyone else does.  I’m arrogant, obnoxious, and I like to show off.  I believe John calls me a ‘drama queen’.”  She giggled into his chest.  “But you didn’t.  You saw something in me that no one else ever did.  You saw past the drama queen, the arsehole and saw the vulnerable little boy inside.  You were always there for me even when you were far, far away from me.”

“Could we sit?” She asks, “this bedframe between us is a bit uncomfortable.”

He let her lead as she laid down on the bed; he laid next to her, not crowding her.  Reaching over she traced his fingers with her own until he captured them with his grasp.  The look in his eyes was the look she had always hoped to see so why was she so scared?

“Did I ever tell you about how you saved my life?”  He asked his eyebrow raised.

“If you’re talking about the Fall, I think I remem…”

“No, not the Fall but then you did save me then as well Molly Hooper.  You are always saving me it seems.”

“Then, when?”  She asks.

“When I was shot in Magnussen’s office.”  She recoiled remembering how she had paced the hospital corridor for hours willing him to live but surely he can’t mean that.  “When I was shot, I had only seconds to make a difference in the outcome.  You, Dr. Hooper, told me what to do.  I was shot, possibly dying and you were the first person I thought of to help me.”

“How?  How did I help you?”  She stuttered.

“You kept me alert, you kept me from going into shock, and you convinced me which way to fall to minimize blood loss.”

“Anyone could have done that, Sherlock.”

“No, they couldn’t because I wouldn’t have listened to anyone but you.  I’ve counted on your love, that you would never willing hurt me.  I trust you.  That is not a sentiment I give easily.”

“But surely, John.”

He shook his head.  “No, not in this instance.”  He couldn’t tell her why he couldn’t trust John’s judgement that time.  He couldn’t tell her that John’s wife was the one who shot him.  He would not tarnish her memories of Mary by letting her know of her past, a past that got her killed.

She watched him as he tried so hard to keep it all from her but it was too late.  “You know, I know about Mary.” 

His eyes went wide but he quickly tried to cover his surprise.  “You know what about Mary?”

Edging closer to him she tells him, “That she used to be an assassin and that she was the one who shot you.” 

This time he can’t mask his surprise, “How? Who? When?” he sputters.

“Mary.  Mary told me when her and John were separated.  I couldn’t understand what could have possibly happened so quickly into their marriage, especially with a baby on the way.  Mary and I had started to spend more time together after I broke things off with Tom.”  He winced at the mention of her former fiancé.  “One day she just told me.”

At first at a loss for words, he remembered something she had said to him the other day, “What was that like?”

“It was surreal.  I remember staring at her for the longest time just trying to see her as an assassin.  I couldn’t.  Here was a woman who baked bread, and had a wicked sense of humor and she’s telling me she used to kill people for a living.  It didn’t make any sense.  But then she told me she was the one who shot you.  She told me exactly what had happened and why she had to shoot you.  At the time, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to thank her for not choosing a kill shot as she clearly would have been able to perform one at that distance or stab her with a scalpel.  I suppose it was lucky we were in her lounge and not at Bart’s.”  She laughed that laugh she does when she’s made a morbid joke.

She was expecting Sherlock to admonish her with his patented, ‘don’t make jokes Molly’ but he just stared at her in awe.  “You amaze me Molly Hooper.”  She blushed.  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you but it wasn’t my secret to tell.  I hope you can understand that.”

“I do, but don’t feel you have to keep things from me to protect me Sherlock.  I’m not made of glass.”

“I know that Molly.  You’re the strongest person I know.”  His eyes drop looking down at the bedding.  “I’m just not used to sharing…myself with others.  John is the closest I’ve gotten to that….until now.”  He raises his chin so he can look her in the eyes.  “I want to be for you what you have always been for me.  I’m just not sure I know how.”

She can see him trying.  She can see how he is putting himself out there for her, being brave, being vulnerable.  Her hand cups his cheek, caressing it.  He leans into her touch, craving it.  “What have I been for you, Sherlock?”

“You’ve been my person.  Whenever anything had gone to shite you were the person I went to.”

“I…I didn’t know.”  She whispers.

“I could never let you see how much I needed you.  I don’t think I could even admit it to myself.  So, I would create experiments, or cases, or reasons to come to you that you would find acceptable.”

“I’ve come to think of you as home, Molly.  You are where I feel safest.”

Resting her head against his shoulder she felt the warmth of his feelings wash over her.  Even her fantasies didn’t give her a Sherlock Holmes who trusted her with everything.  He loved her.  He trusted her.  He seemed to want her physically.  ‘Could this really be happening?’ 

She wanted so badly to believe in it, to believe him that this all was real.  But she had been living this one-sided romance for so long it was going to take some time to accept. 

As he held her he seemed to read her thoughts.  “Molly, I understand that I’ve revealed a lot to you these last few days.  Some of it good, some of it not.  I’m sure you’re also worried that all of this is because of what I went through at Sherrinford.”  She raised herself up to look at him, silently asking him if it was.  “It’s not but that ordeal has opened me up emotionally.  It also made me realize how important you are to me.”  Holding her he thinks carefully about his next words, “I do know that this is probably not the right time to start a romantic relationship with you.” 

Cocking her head to the right, she tries to understand what he’s saying.  “Molly”  He strokes the side of her cheek.  “I’m an emotional mess right now.  I’m feeling things I’ve never even known I could.  I’m remembering things that were long buried and it’s unsettling.  My past is changing and it is changing how I see myself.  I foresee that it will alter who I am in the future.  Logically I know this is not the right time but…but I don’t want to be without you.”  His face contorts trying to imagine his life without her in it….he can’t…..he won’t.

“Sherlock, I’m still here…I’ll always be here for you.”  He sighs deeply in relief.  “But you’re right this may not be the right time, for either of us, to alter our relationship.” 

They laid there in silence for what seemed eternity.  Finally, he spoke, “So does that include me moving in with you?”

Her head popped up, staring him down.  Her eyes then went from the closet back to his face and finally understanding seemed to come. “So, is that what you were doing in my closet?  Trying to move in?”

Silently he nodded.

“Oh!”  She squeaked as this all finally made sense, well almost.  “Why?”  She sat up.

“Because Baker Street is uninhabitable, at John’s I have to sleep on the sofa and be awoken at all hours with Rosie’s crying, and…..”  He then gave her that smile, the one guaranteed to get him anything he asked.  “I was rather hoping the thought of me being around would make you as happy as it made me.”

“Baker Street is uninhabitable?”  She questioned.

“Yes, the inspectors won’t allow me to stay there while the reconstruction is going on.”

“I see.”  She bit her lower lip.

“John and I went through the flat earlier packing up anything that was salvageable.  It was amazing how many items we were able to keep.  John thinks that Eurus must have lessened the impact of the bomb since it normally should have leveled the building.”

“Oh!  Well, I suppose that’s something.”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

She worried her bottom lip.  “So, you moving in, that would be temporary?” 

“It would.  They estimate the repairs at Baker Street to take five to seven weeks.”

“Five to seven weeks?”  He nods.  “I suppose we could get on for a few weeks”, he began to smile, “but there are rules, Sherlock.”  His smile deflated.

“Rules?”  He sounded ever the petulant teenager.

“Yes, Sherlock, rules.”  He rolled his eyes at her but listened none the less.  “Rule 1:  no experiments of any kind can be conducted in my flat.” 

His mouth dropped open, “none?”

“None!  But you can come to Bart’s anytime you like.”  He pouted.  “I’ll make sure your favorite microscope is available and possibly have some extra body parts at the ready.”  His pout turned to a grin at the possibility of new experiments.

“Ok, what else?”

“Rule 2: no bringing clients or your homeless network into my flat.”

“Of course not Molly.  I would protect you from any clients and although I don’t think my network poses any threat to you I can abide by that.”

“Ok, then Rule 3: we wait to change our relationship status until we are both ready to do so.”

Reaching over for her hand he slides his fingers between hers.  “Molly, we have been in each other’s lives for a very long time.  We’ve both acknowledged that we have probably spent most of that time loving each other in some form or other.  I have a lot to work through and I will be glad for your assistance in doing so.  We can take our relationship at any pace you want.  I just want to be close to you.”

She smiled, then blushed at how sweet he was being.  “Ok, you can stay here.”  He popped up, taking her into his arms, and kissed her soundly.  Soon she tapped at his chest and he pulled back.  “I thought we just agreed to take things slow?”

“No kissing?!?”  He blurted.

She smiled at him, he could be so cute.  “Yes, there can be kissing just don’t get too carried away.”

“I understand.”  He gave her a peck on the lips.  “Acceptable?” He asked.

“Acceptable.”  She kissed him back then rose from the bed.  As she surveyed the floor with his clothes and suitcases she quickly came up with a solution.  “We could put your clothes in the spare room.”  She suggested.  It took them about an hour to pull all of the existing stuff from the closet and hang up Sherlock’s suits, shirts, and jumpers.  She emptied the top drawer of her old dresser for his unmentionables.  He seemed satisfied with the arrangement.

He suggested they go out for dinner, nothing fancy.  Truthfully, he hoped they could just spend some time together without all this intense, emotional talk that seemed to permeate every conversation.  He knew she would respect his privacy enough to not bring these things up in public.

They decided on a quaint Chinese restaurant just a few blocks from the flat.  They kept the conversation light throughout the meal both having had enough deeply emotional ones these past few days.  At one point she mentioned that she would be spending the day with Rosie tomorrow while John was at the clinic.  “Would you and Rosie mind some company?”  He asked as he stabbed the last dumpling. 

“Are you offering to babysit?”  Her eyebrow rose in surprise.

“Co-babysit.” He clarified.  “Besides I need the practice.”  She looked at him curiously.  “I am her godfather after all.”

“Well then, I’ll be sure to give you all the practice then.”  She teased.  The look he gave her let her know he was a bit worried what that might entail and she started to giggle with ideas.  ‘Oh, this was going to be fun!’

o0oOOo0o

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments feed the author's soul and she really appreciates them!


	15. It’s Not Always Easy

They arrive at John’s bright and early as he needs to get to the clinic and it is the nanny’s day off.  John seems surprised to see Sherlock there but he doesn’t say anything about it as he heads out.  When he enters the kitchen, Molly has Rosie on her hip while she is trying to prepare her breakfast.  “Here let me.”  He says as he takes Rosie from her.

He had startled her but she says, “Um, thanks.” 

“Good morning Rosamund.  How are you doing today?”  He asks while taking in her clean baby smell.  She smiles back at him while trying to pull at his nose.  “Let’s find that cereal that you like so much.”  He opens three cupboards before he finds it.  Handing her one, it distracts her long enough for him to slide her into her high chair.  Immediately she begins to protest until he places a handful of Cheerios on her tray.  Sitting in front of her he observes the ratio of cereal eaten to that she drops to the floor.

Molly brings the bowl of oatmeal over impressed that he got her into her high chair so easily.  “Nice trick.”  She observes.  “I’ll have to remember that one.”  Looking up he smiled.  “So, little Rosie, are you ready for breakfast.”  Rosie banged her hands against the tray as Molly spooned oatmeal into her happy mouth.

He took the opportunity to ready his cuppa then came back to watch the interaction.  Rosie seemed to be enjoying herself but what was truly spellbinding was to see the look on Molly’s face.  She beamed at her goddaughter.  In that moment, it occurred to him that she would make a marvelous mother but in the interest of taking things slow he decided to keep that thought to himself.

In keeping her word ‘to give him plenty of practice’ she stood by while she gave him instructions on how to change a nappie.  The look on Sherlock’s face was priceless because, of course, she waited for the dirty one to instruct him.  The photos she sent directly to John, in case he got to her phone and deleted them.  He scowled at her because he knew exactly what she was up to.

Later when she had him give Rosie her bath he got his revenge by having Rosie splash water all over _her_.  That time, she ended up taking a selfie of the three of them, all completely wet.  He had her send a copy to his phone as well as to John’s. 

After they got her down for her afternoon nap, they both crashed on the sofa exhausted.  “I don’t know how John does this AND gets any work done!”  He exclaimed as he falls against the cushions.

She looked over at him smiling.

“What?”  He asks curious.

Shaking her head, she says, “Nothing.  I just never expected to see this side of you, that’s all.”

“Which side is that?”

“The fun-loving doting godfather.”   She clearly seems surprised by this.

“Did you think I wasn’t capable?”  He wonders.

Quickly looking at the floor, she mumbles, “Well, I wasn’t sure.”

Reaching towards her his hand seeks out hers.  Her eyes turn towards their connection.  “To be honest with you Molly I wasn’t sure myself.  I’ve never spent any time around babies before but Rosamund makes it easy.”  He pauses.  “….and I feel a sense of duty ..to Mary, to get this right.”  She nods knowing how much guilt he carries because of Mary’s death.

“She’d be proud of the way you have taken on your role as godfather.”

His fingers tighten around hers.  “Would she?”  She nods.  “I hope so.”  They sit in silence for several minutes each thinking about their friend.

“Sherlock, may I ask you something …about Mary?” 

He perks up wondering what could cause her to be so hesitant.  “Yes, yes of course.”

“You don’t have many friends, and it took years for most of them to be considered your friend.  Why was it so easy for you to accept Mary as your friend?”

That was an interesting question.  He had just accepted her, hadn’t he?  Maybe it was because she had so readily accepted him?  “I suppose it was because she accepted who I was and who I was with John.  She never tried to keep us apart, or to curtail our activities.  I accepted her as part of John’s life as she accepted me as another.”

“Mmmm.”  She thought out loud.

“What?”  He asked.

“I don’t know.  The other night we were talking about Mary shooting you and it didn’t seem to bother you.”

“Because it didn’t.”

“Why not?  That isn’t usually the kind of thing one overlooks.”

He sits up coming closer to where she is sitting.  “I’m not sure if I can explain it but when I found out that Mary was an assassin somehow so much about her made sense.  When she shot me, at first, I thought I had been wrong about her but then I didn’t die.  There is no way a trained assassin couldn’t have made a kill shot from less than 5 metres.  So I called her out, asked her about it.  All she cared about was whether I would tell John because she felt that if he knew he wouldn’t love her anymore.”

“Did you?  Did you tell John?”  She asks.

He looks around at the house of his friends John and Mary and sighs.  “Technically she told him.  I had John there for the entire exchange.”  She gasped.  “I didn’t think he’d believe it from me.  I knew he needed to hear it from her.”

“That’s when he moved back into Baker Street?”  He nodded.  “And you just forgave her just like that?” 

“I understood why she had done it.  If she would have shot Magnussen; John and I would have been implicated since we had gotten past security.  If she would have shot Magnussen and me; John would have been the sole suspect.  By shooting me and sparing Magnussen he had something over us all and he would corroborate that an assassin was on the premises but he would not name her.  He preferred to keep his information for future blackmail.”

“God, he sounds vile.  I’m glad that he was taken out.”

“He was, and your welcome.”

Her face scrunches up in confusion.  “Your welcome?  Sherlock, what are you talking about.”

“For taking care of Magnussen.” 

“For taking ..care?  Sherlock you didn’t shoot Magnussen one of the secret service did.”

“No Molly, that’s only what they want you to think.  I shot Magnussen in the head to save Mary from his clutches, and by proxy John.”

“You?  You shot Magnussen?”  She asks shocked at his revelation.

“Yes, I did but technically you don’t have security clearance to know that so I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t say anything.”

She stands and looks down at him.  “Sherlock, this isn’t funny!”

“I never said it was.”  He doesn’t understand her reaction.

“You killed an unarmed man!”  Her voiced raised but not so loud as to wake Rosie.

“Yes, yes I did and I don’t regret it.  He was a vile, amoral man who found ways to pressure people into his own use.  Even Janine was under his thumb.  She wasn’t sorry to see the bastard go.”  He wasn’t sure why he brought up Janine as he knew it was a sore spot with Molly but Magnussen always brought out the worse in him.

“And you just walked away, scot-free?”  She states exasperated.

“I wouldn’t call being exiled from mother England scot-free!”

“What?!?”  She falls back down onto the sofa.

“The mission to the East that you are so keen to thank Mycroft for was to be my exile.  Also, he didn’t think I’d make it past six months.  Did you know that part?”  He huffed then fell back against the sofa, crossing his arms.  He wouldn’t look at her; he was too angry. 

“Was?”  He heard her say softly.

“What?”  He responded a bit more sharply than he intended.

“You said ‘it was to be my exile’ but it wasn’t.  What happened?”

He looked over at her then back before answering.  “Moriarity.  Moriarity on every screen in the country.”

“Oh god.”  She thought she might be sick.

“Yeah.”  He stated quietly.

All of a sudden something occurred to him, “Eurus!”

“What!?!”  She said again.

“Eurus must have been the one to have put them up.”  The wheels were turning inside his head making sense of her connection to James Moriarity.  “Of course, she would have had all that footage of him.  It would have been easy enough for her to patch that into all the TV, radio, and music feeds.”  His thoughts continued to revolve around Eurus and Moriarity.  He didn’t notice the hell that Molly was putting herself through over this, not until she spoke.

“You….you were just going to leave?”  At the sound of her voice he snapped out of his mind palace to see her sitting across from him, tears streaming down her face, with a most devastated look on her face.

Caught off guard he mumbled, “Sorry.” 

This apparently was not the correct response.  She rose from the couch, holding herself tightly.  After a few paces she turned back to him.  “You were just going to leave and not say good-bye.”

‘Oh!’ Now he understood why she was so upset.  “Molly, I couldn’t.  I was in custody.  They wouldn’t have let me see you.”

“But you saw John.  I know you did, he said he was with you at the airport when Moriarity’s face showed up on every screen in Britain.”  She accused.

He dropped his head unable to look at her.  “I see.”  She said, sounding dejected, actually rejected would be the more accurate term.  She started to walk away.

“No, I don’t think you do.”  His voice was low but it stopped her long enough for him to go to her.  Standing in front of her he tried to explain, “I couldn’t say good-bye to you, not you.  The only thing I regretted about killing Magnussen was that I would be cut off from you.  Even if I didn’t understand what my feelings were; I knew that losing you was my biggest regret.”  He reached for her cheek but she stepped back from him and his heart broke.  “Molly?”

“I need to go Sherlock.  I can’t be here right now.  Can you stay with Rosie until John gets back?”  She turned to gather her things without waiting for his answer.  Before she opened the door, she looked over her shoulder at him.  “Will you?  Will you stay with Rosie?”

“Of course.”  As if he would abandon his goddaughter.

As she opened the door, he asked, “Will you be home later?”

‘Home, her home, their home, for now.’  “Where else would I go?”  She stated as she slipped out the door.

He stared at the door for the longest time worried that that might be the last he sees of Molly Hooper.  Falling onto the couch he began to wallow but that didn’t last long as he heard the sounds of a waking Rosie on the monitor.  Before getting her up from her nap he sent a text to Mycroft asking him to keep closer tabs on Molly.  When he inquired why, Sherlock refused to answer.

o0oOOo0o

Leaving from John’s place she began to walk.  She had no idea where to go but she just couldn’t be in the same room with him right now.  She needed to talk about this but none of her friends would understand.  They thought she was crazy for being friends with him at all.  That, along with the fact that this was top secret, ruled out any living person she knew.  That is how she ended up at the cemetery in front of Mary’s tombstone pouring her heart out.

“He was just going to leave and not tell me.  I would never have known if he was dead or alive….he would have just been gone.”  She choked out.  “I suppose this is karma for doing that to John for two years.”  She cried harder.

It was where John found her when he came to put flowers on Mary’s grave.  She was quiet when he approached but he could tell that she had been crying.  “Molly?”  He asked before he was too close.  When she turned to look his way, he could see the devastation on her face.  Immediately he asked, “Oh Christ, what did he do?”

She began to sob again in earnest.  Quickly he placed the flowers on his wife’s grave, then gathered her into his arms.  “Molly, it’s going to be alright.  Whatever the arse has done I’m sure he didn’t mean to.”  He tried to reassure her.  When she seemed to have calmed down, he asked, “What happened?”

Without taking a breath she stated, “He killed Magnussen and he was just going to leave, the country, and not say good-bye.”

“Oh!”  He knew some things about that but he wasn’t sure if it was his place to say them or not.

“Of course, you knew.  He told you good-bye.”  She said with a bit more vigor.

“Yes, yes he did but then he didn’t tell me when he jumped off a roof.”  She looked guilty at his words.  “That time he let me think he was dead for two bloody years.  But he told you, hell you even helped him do it.”

“I know.  I’m sorry John, truly I am.”  Her voice immediately became contrite at the reminder of her betrayal.

“I didn’t bring that up to make you feel guilty.”  She had a look of ‘then why’, so he continued.  “Molly he trusted you with the most important secret he ever had.  He trusted you to pull it off without a hitch, to keep me, Mrs. Hudson, and Greg safe.  He trusted you to keep quiet that he was really out there alive somewhere.  Have you ever wondered, why you?”

Her eyes scrunch together as she wonders the same thing.  He continues, “I’ve thought about this and it occurred to me that he could have had Mycroft organize the whole thing and you would have never known.  Why do you think he included you?”

“I..I don’t know, John.  I just always thought he needed a pathologist.”

“I’m sure Mycroft could have gotten any number of pathologists to sign off on the death certificate.  Why do you think Sherlock wanted you to be a part of it?”

She shook her head.  “I don’t know.”

He smiled at her as he said, “I asked him once.  I asked him why he included you in his fake suicide.  Do you know what he said?”

She just shook her head side to side.

“Because I needed her to know.  I needed her to know I was still alive.”  She gasped at the idea that Sherlock cared about her, even then.

“But then why didn’t he want me to know when he was leaving in exile?”

“Because he never expected to come back alive.”  She inhaled sharply at the thought of a world without Sherlock in it. 

“I’m sure you don’t know this part, and he’s probably going to kill me for telling you this but you should know.”  He sat next to her but still kept his arm against hers.  “Sherlock never expected to return from his exile mission.  Mycroft gave him six months.  But Sherlock wanted to go out on his own terms so before the plane took off he took an assortment of drugs.”  She gasped again knowing what he was really saying.  “Yes, he was trying to kill himself, for real this time.  If it wasn’t for the fact that the plane was recalled after four minutes he might have succeeded.  As it was Mycroft had to take him to a private hospital to get the drugs flushed from his system.”

“Oh God!”  She felt sick knowing how close she had come to losing him forever.

“But he didn’t want to go to hospital, at least not for himself.  He wanted to go to Bart’s to make sure you were alright, that Moriarity hadn’t made you a target.”

“He did?”

“He did.  Mycroft could only get him to agree to go to the private hospital by assuring him that he had already sent his best agent to be with you.”

“Anthea!”  He nodded.  “I had thought it was odd that Anthea just showed up in the morgue.  She doesn’t say much so she wouldn’t really say why she was there but I knew about the broadcast so I assumed it had something to do with that.”

“Yes, she sent Mycroft regular updates throughout the night that he relayed to Sherlock.  Otherwise I’m fairly certain he would have ripped the IVs from his arm and stormed over there himself.”

“Why are you telling me all this?”  She looked at him questioning.

He sat for a moment, looking over her shoulder at his wife’s name.  “Because you and Sherlock have something special, once in a lifetime.  I know he’s an arse.”  She giggles at him.  “Well, he is but he’s my best friend and he’s the man that loves you more than anything else.  I want the two of you to be happy.”  He looks past her to his wife’s tombstone again.  “You never know how long you have for happiness.”  Looking back at her, he says, “Don’t waste a moment of it.”

o0oOOo0o

When John got back to his place, it was to an exceedingly agitated Sherlock Holmes.  Sherlock wanted to sprint out the door to find Molly but John’s words held him in place.  “I’ve spoken to Molly.”

“You have?”  His eyes went wide at this revelation.  “How is she?”

“I think she’ll be alright but there are some things you should know before you go to her.”  He sounded cryptic as he walked back into the lounge with Rosie in his arms.  Sherlock had no choice but to follow.

After John had Rosie engaged with her toys he turned to Sherlock.  “She’s very upset with you.”

He let out a snort.  “I think I figured that much out on my own, John.”

“But do you know why?”

“Because I didn’t tell her about Magnussen and the exile.”  Sherlock was after all a detective, give him some credit.

“But why?”  See John knew that Sherlock could understand the what but not necessarily the why of the situation.

He sat there motionless as he sifted through his mind palace for the right answer.  John was losing patience with him and snapped his fingers in front of his face to bring him back.  “I don’t have time to wait for you to run through your bloody mind palace for answers.  She’s upset because you were knowingly going to your death and you didn’t say good-bye.  You were going to let her think you would be back anytime now…..when we both know that not to be true.  If the plane hadn’t been recalled, you would have been dead within the hour.”

Sherlock shifts uncomfortable in his seat unsure of what to say.  The truth never was very easy for Sherlock to face.  “What do I do?”  He asks meekly.

“Honestly?”  Sherlock nodded slightly.  “Grovel!  Beg her forgiveness and swear you’ll never do anything like that again.” 

He winced at the thought but knew his friend was right.  Molly had deserved better from him then and she certainly deserves better now.

o0oOOo0o

When he arrived at Molly’s flat he appeared as if no one was home.  He slipped in with his key in the hopes of preparing something nice for her before she got there.  After hanging up his coat and scarf he turned toward the kitchen but he heard muffled sounds coming from the end of the hall.  As he got closer to her bedroom he heard her sobs and his heart broke.  He had done that, again.

Opening her door, he called to her, “Molly?”

He saw her stiffen under the bedding that she had nearly covering her.  Slowly he went around to her side of the bed where she was facing the wall.  At the sight of her swollen eyes, and drenched cheeks he fell to his knees.  “Molly, I’m sorry.  Please forgive me.  I didn’t mean to hurt you.  I was trying to spare you, at least, that’s what I told myself.  But the truth is I was trying to spare me pain.  I couldn’t look into your eyes and say good-bye knowing it would be the absolute last time.  I couldn’t.”  Tears were streaming down his own face as he silently begged her to forgive him.

Silently she moved back in the bed making a place for him.  He scrambled onto it happy that she wasn’t sending him out into the night.

She took his hands in hers and leaned forward for a messy, wet, chaste kiss, then leaned her forehead against his.  No words passed between them.  Soon they were both asleep.  Somewhere in the night she had turned and he had taken her in his arms.  They will always love one another but sometimes it’s not always easy.

o0oOOo0o


	16. No, I’m not… But I will be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting. A huge storm took out my Internet. When it didn't return after a few days I had to get a technician out and it even took him two hours to get it up and running. I seriously did not realize how dependent I was on the Internet!!!

About a week later, Mycroft informs him that he has located Victor’s family.  They now live in Cardiff where they had moved about a year after Victor’s disappearance.  So far, they have been able to keep the revelation of finding Victor’s body from the media but it’s only a matter of time before it gets out.  He knows that this story should come from him but he doesn’t want to face it alone.  For a moment, he considers taking Mycroft but Mycroft is too scary to inflict on this already devastated family.  Who he really wants by his side is Molly but he’s afraid she will turn him down.  Things haven’t been the same since he revealed his part in the Magnussen case.  She’s been more aloof and tentative around him.  The only time he’s been allowed to touch her is when they are sleeping.  She does like to cuddle.

One night as they are watching the telly he decides to take a chance.  “Molly?”  He asks to get her attention. 

She turns his way, “Yes?”

“Um, I wanted you to know that I got a call from Mycroft the other day.”

“Oh?”  She couldn’t even begin to think where this could end up. 

She could tell that he was nervous since he had already run his fingers through his hair twice, and his other hand was playing a beat on his thigh.  She braced herself for bad news.  “He’s located Victor’s family.  They moved to Cardiff shortly after Victor disappeared.”

“I see.”  She said, giving him her undivided attention.  Victor’s death had changed his entire life, as she was sure it had Victor’s parents.  Death was something she was well acquainted with.

“They don’t know, yet, about us finding Victor.  I think it should come from me.”

“I think that would be very thoughtful of you, Sherlock.”

He nodded in agreement.  “The thing is I don’t think I can do this alone, and I don’t think Mycroft would be the right person to take, and I was hoping that you would come with me, please?”

“Ok.”

“Ok?”  “Ok?  It was that easy.” 

“Sherlock, I know how much Victor’s death has already cost you.  I know you want to do right by his parents, as best you can at this point.  I also know that this is going to be exceedingly difficult for you so yes, I will go with you.”

He throws his arms around her in a tight embrace.  “Thank you, Molly.  You have no idea how grateful I am for having you in my life.”

She leans back smirking at him.  “Oh, I have some idea.”  She giggles then leans in granting him a kiss.  He’s so shocked he nearly misses his chance to kiss her back.

For the remainder of the evening she lays in his arms while they watch telly and he alternates between being happy to be with her and fretting about what he’s going to say to Victor’s parents.

o0oOOo0o

Mycroft had made arrangements for the two of them to go to Cardiff at the end of the week.  As he had been thinking about what to say to them he feels the need to go where Victor had lain for the last 30 years waiting for him to find him.  He texts Mycroft to arrange a car for him to go to Musgrave.

He had considered asking Molly to go with him but he was already asking a lot of her to go to Cardiff.  Although she seemed to be getting past the Magnussen ordeal and his almost exile he didn’t want to push her by asking too much. 

So, when the car arrived and he got inside he was surprised that Molly was waiting for him.  “Molly?”  He inquired as he sat across from her.

“Mycroft.”  As if that answered all questions.

“Mycroft?”

“He didn’t think you should be alone.  He said he would have offered but he thought you’d enjoy my company better.”

Smiling, he said, “Well he’s not wrong there.  May I?”  He indicated the seat next to her.

“Of course.”  She laid her hand in the seat between them as a sort of invitation. 

He hoped that he had read her invitation correctly and slid his hand onto hers.  Immediately she twined her digits between his and he sighed with relief.  Pulling their joined hands to his lips he kisses her hand wanting her to know how grateful he is that she is here.

It takes over an hour to reach the estate.  Molly had busied herself with watching the scenery pass while Sherlock spent the time thinking of Victor.  When they finally arrive, Molly is shocked by the sheer size of it.  Getting out of the car she gapes at the manor house taking in the architecture and noting the ruin that both the fire and time have ravaged upon it. 

It’s not until Sherlock’s trembling hand finds hers that she remembers that this isn’t just any old house.  Tightening her grasp on him she hesitates before looking up at his face.  He’s pale, paler than is normal for even him, his breathing is becoming labored, and she fears he may be heading for another panic attack.  Standing in front of him she asks him to look at her.  It takes a moment but finally he does.  “Sherlock look at me, focus on me.  You’re alright.  There is nothing here that can hurt you anymore.  Do you understand?”  He nods but doesn’t take his eyes off of her.

After a full three minutes, he finally raises his gaze to take in Musgrave once again.  Watching him closely she can see that he is in control once more.  To lighten the mood, she asks, “Ready to give me the tour?”

He squeezes her hand as they make their way down the path to the front door.  As he pushes it open he remembers being in the foyer with Eurus’ taunts about Redbeard.  The monitors are gone but he fixates on the spot where she had been mocking him that he was too slow and as to why he was wrong about Redbeard, that he never had a dog.  He falls to the floor, eyes still riveted to the spot where Eurus was, reliving the moment when he realized that Redbeard was never his dog, but his best friend.  That night he couldn’t spend precious moments to mourn his best friend because he had to find his other best friend before the same fate happened to him.  Now he needed to.

He rocked himself back and forth, tears flowing down his cheeks, chanting, “I’m sorry Victor.  I’m sorry.”  Watching him and doing nothing was torture but it didn’t feel right to intrude on this private moment between him and Victor.  When his tears began to ebb, he reached out for her and she was there in an instant, holding him as he continued to mourn for his childhood friend, and perhaps for his own childhood as well.

As he began to calm, he became self-conscious of his break-down.  “Sherlock, it’s alright.  This is a perfectly normal response.  I might even say it’s a healthy response.”  She assured him as she caressed his cheek and ran her fingers through his hair.

“Crying like a baby is normal?”  He pouted.

“It is.”  She reassured.  “when you realize that you’ve lost your friend.”  He nodded at her but didn’t say anything else.  She handed him some tissues then gave him a moment to right himself.

When he rose from the floor, he came to where she stood and pulled her into an embrace.  Taking in the scent of her hair calmed him even though his eyes still glistened with sadness.  “Thank you.  Thank you for being here with me.”

When he finally pulled back she kissed his cheek.  “It is my honor.”  He gave her a watery smile and a nod.

“The tour?”  She asked to distract him from his heavy thoughts and to give him an out.

“Yes, I believe I’ve been remiss.”  He pulled her into the next room.  It was a large room that looked as if it had one day had grand opulence from what she could tell of the peeling wallpaper and the cobweb covered crystal chandelier.  “This was the main lounge or as mummy called it ‘the drawing room’”.  He elongated his words sounding posh.

“Wow Sherlock!  I can’t believe you lived here.  This is like something out of Downton Abbey.”  Her eyes take in the 8 foot windows and the massive fireplace on the opposite wall.

“Downton what?”  He asks his nose somewhat in the air.

“Oh, don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.  I know for a fact that you watched an episode with me on Christmas Day three years ago when you were trying to avoid going to your family dinner.”

“Ah, quite right.  I had hoped you had forgotten that.”  He turns in the direction of the mantelpiece.

She’s about to tease him further when she notices him running his hand across the mantel lost again to a memory.  This one seems pleasant as he has a small smile on his face.  Coming closer she asks, “Remember something?”  He looks up at her smile.

He smiles back.  “I remember us putting our stockings up to wait for Father Christmas.  See here are the nail holes.  This one was for Mycroft, then mine, then Eurus’.  Mummy and daddy put theirs on the ends.” 

He takes her hand leading her into the next room.  “This was the dining room.  We hardly ever used it except for holiday meals or if one of my aunts or uncles came to dine with us.  I detested it.  It was always “sit up straight”, “use your manners”, it was terribly uncomfortable.  He chose to move on but she stayed behind looking at the damask wallpaper and the built-in sideboards.

The thud from the next room hurried her into it.  Leaning heavily against the wall was Sherlock, his eyes fixated on the center of the room.  She could guess that there had probably been a table there once and he was remembering something from his past.  Unsure if she should intrude she stayed close waiting for him to need her.

He could visualize Eurus sitting there across from him singing that song again and again, not even stopping when mummy told her to.  It was as if her eyes could see into his soul and deemed him unworthy.  “No, stop it.  Stop it!”  He squeezed his eyes shut to erase the memory.  It was at that moment that Molly came beside him sliding her hand across his back reminding him that he wasn’t a little boy any longer and Eurus wasn’t really there.

Turning towards her he finally opened his eyes grateful for his Molly before him.  “You ok?”  She asked gently.

He nodded but turned away from the center of the room and slowly went up the back stairs.  She followed closely behind wondering how safe this old staircase was.  At the end of the hallway she could see the ravages of the fire and the openings in the roof.  Passing up the first two doors he opened the third one on the right. 

Standing at the threshold he took in the remnants of his childhood room.  It looked as if it had not been touched since that night when the place burned.  ‘Did they not take any of his belongings to the cottage?’  He couldn’t remember, all of his memories were still muddled before about age eight.  That was as far back as he’d been able to remember except for the bits and pieces here at Musgrave.

Slowly he made his way into the room taking in the books on the shelves, his tri-corner hat on the peg by the bed, his clothes still hanging in the wardrobe.  His feet seemed to drag as he walked across the floorboards slowly remembering a life that has been gone from him for three decades.  He’s barely aware of Molly’s presence as he relives his childhood one memory at a time. 

Stopping he sees the outline of a frame resting atop his dresser.  His hands shake as he lifts it, then brushes the years of dirt from the glass.  Looking back at him are three young children, each smiling into the camera.  It’s not until Molly comes next to him that he realizes he’s crying, trying to see their faces through the tears.  He feels her warm hand against his cheek and turns towards her.  “It’s ok.  You’re ok, Sherlock.”  He nods then slips the frame into his coat.  Discreetly he pulls out his handkerchief to clean his face.

When he has righted himself he comes next to where she is standing in the center of the room.  “Sherlock, why is all of this still here?  Why didn’t they take it to Sussex?”

When she looks up at him she wishes she hadn’t asked as she can see the pain across his face.  “I don’t know Molly.  It’s as if none of this life ever occurred.”  He looks at her.  “Maybe that was the point.”

Unsure what to say she takes his hand in hers.  He then leads her down the hall and down the front stairs.  Without daring to look to the right he leads her out the front door.  The air is chilled but fresher than the stale, dusty air within Musgrave. 

Noticing the old headstones, she wanders over to them.  Quickly she sees that they can’t be real.  “The dates are all wrong.”  She states.

“Yes.”  He chokes out as he comes up behind her.  “Someone’s idea of a joke, it seems.”  He studies them for a few minutes before looking at the view.  He remembers sitting here among the ‘funny gravestones’ reading, writing pirate stories, sometimes alone, sometimes with Victor.  He takes a deep breath taking it all in trying to find a way to store it in a neat box in his mind palace.  That may prove to be a bit difficult.

“Are you ready?  She asks nodding toward the waiting car.

His hands are deep in his pockets and he’s unable to look her in the eye as he says, “I ..I have one more thing I need to do.”

“Oh, ok.”  She says as she walks back towards him.

Pensively he says, “Um, Molly….  I think I need to do this one alone, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh?”  She now sees the resolute look on his face.  “If you’re sure?”

“I am.  Thank you.  The car would be warmer.”  He says as he turns to walk past the tombstones, and around the side of the house.  Soon he is out of sight and she sends a prayer to the heavens to give him the strength to face this last demon.

o0oOOo0o

The grounds behind the manor were seriously overgrown but he could see the path that the rescue workers had made in getting John from the well.  Following it to the far side of the property he soon came upon the stone structure that barely could be seen amongst the tall grasses.  Falling to his knees he looked inside immediately picturing Victor trapped, the water to his knees, his hat and sword abandoned floating nearby.  Sherlock could feel his breathing becoming labored as he saw the panic on the little boy’s face begging for someone to get him out, for someone to find him.

Pushing away from the edge of the well he turned and fell against it.  Gradually he began to slow his breathing but then he heard John’s voice in his ear.  He heard him as he described where he was, and then that he found bones.  It was the crack in his voice that got to him when he said, “Mycroft’s been lying to you.”

As he sat there his mind began switching from Victor’s face to John’s both of them staring up from the well begging him to come find them.  “Victor I’m sorry.  I’m sorry I didn’t find you in time.  I’m sorry I was too slow.  I’m sorry my sister is a psychopath.  I’m sorry.”  He started to cry.  “John I’m sorry.  I’m sorry I keep dragging you into my drama.  I’m sorry your wife is dead.  I’m sorry she died saving me.  I’m sorry Rosie won’t get to know her.  I’m sorry.  I’m so, so sorry.”

He’s not sure how long he sat there against the stone of the well crying, begging their forgiveness but he felt spent.  Remembering Molly waiting for him back in the car, he thought it was time he got back.  Pushing himself to a stand he took one last look back at the well, relieved that it was empty, then turned on his heels and made for the car.

By the time he made it to the car his tears had dried but he knew she would know.  She always knew.  For once he was glad that she could see him because he needed her more than he was willing to admit.

The cold blew in when he opened the door and slid in next to her.  “Are you alright?”  She asked taking one look at him and knowing he wasn’t.

Not hiding from her he said, “No, I’m not.”  Then he laid his head in her lap.  “But I will be.”

o0oOOo0o


	17. There May Be Hope for Him Yet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My deepest apologies for this huge delay in posting. These past two weeks of spring term nearly killed me. ...and only three days until summer term begins!   
> I have missed this story very much so hopefully I will be able to get back to my weekly posting schedule.

The next couple of days leading up to their trip to Cardiff found Sherlock hiding within the playing of his violin.  The constant movement of his arms, his finger placement, the ache in his back from the long hours of playing.  He needed it, the distraction to work through what he had experienced at Musgrave and what lie ahead in Cardiff.

Molly came home after another long day to the strains of his playing.  She leaned heavily against the door before opening it.  She knew it was his process, she knew he had much to work through but was it asking too much for a little quiet when she got home. 

Walking past him she let him continue with his playing as she made her way to her bedroom.  Falling against the mattress her eyes took in the swirls of the plaster on the ceiling wondering how her life had become this.  How did she become host to Sherlock Holmes and all his childhood baggage?  She knew it was the exhaustion talking but between having Sherlock in her home full-time, watching Rosie several times a week, not to mention her full time job of pathologist, supervisor of interns, and her own research - she was spent.  She just wanted some time for herself.  Pushing herself off the bed she began to pull off her clothes.  It wasn’t much but the few minutes in the bath each day was her escape and she looked forward to it.

Walking across the hall she was shocked when she opened the washroom to see her bath already drawn, bubbles floating on top the water, and scented candles lit around the room.  A smile took over her face to think he had done this for her.  Dropping her dressing gown, she slid into the warm water, sighing at the peacefulness of it.  From down the hall. she could hear the strains of his violin and her heart warmed knowing he had thought of her needs above his own.  ‘There may be hope for him yet.’, she thought as she let the water cover her muffling out the present.

When she slid up in the water she tensed at the feel of his hands on her neck and shoulders.  He was attempting to massage her muscles.  “Molly, this would be easier if you would relax.”  She heard in his deep baritone.

“Sher-lock?  I’m in the bath.”  She stuttered.

“Obviously.”  He returned.  “Now allow me to help you relax.  You’ve done so much for me; allow me to do this for you.”

“O-ok.”  She squeaked, still unsure if this was a good idea.

He smirked at her hesitancy but he continued to knead her neck and shoulders.  They were stiff from the burdens she had been carrying and he knew that quite a bit of it was his own.  After a few minutes, she gave into the sensation of his fingers against her skin and allowed him to ease her tension.  Twenty minutes later she was nearly boneless from his expert hands.

When he finished he then filled a pitcher and poured it over her head pulling the strands of her hair apart.  Without words, he proceeded to wash her hair, taking great care not to pull at her scalp, then he rinsed it.  After he placed the conditioner in it he patiently pulled the strands through his fingers to evenly distributed it throughout.  Finally, he rinsed her hair with some cool water from the tap before he wrapped it in a towel.

Raising her dressing gown behind her he wrapped her in it when she rose from the bath.  Seeing him behind her in the mirror forced a blush over her face.  He had seen her…naked, at least the parts not fully covered with the bath bubbles. 

Smiling at her in the mirror he leaned over and kissed her cheek.  “Thank you Molly for letting me do this for you.”  Her head was spinning at the thought that he was grateful to do this _for her_.

She nodded, unable to come up with words at that moment.  His face was alight with joy as he looked at her through the mirror.  “You are so beautiful.”  He said before kissing the other cheek and leaving the washroom.  She stood there staring in the mirror trying to see what he saw in her.  In the end, it didn’t matter as her heart felt light knowing he thought she was beautiful.  She took great care in preparing her hair and choosing her clothes.  She wanted to look as beautiful as he had made her feel.

For himself he headed straight to the kitchen, grabbing the peas from the freezer and shoving them inside his trousers.  He’d never realized what a dislike he had for peas but at this moment he loathed them.  Staring out the window, taking deep breaths, he vows never to eat peas again. 

o0oOOo0o

The tension eased between them after that.  She smiled a bit more his way and he found himself smiling back.  It was odd but at the same time, it felt right.

Arriving at the train station to head to Cardiff however both of them were full of tension.  Sherlock was an emotional mess trying to decide what he should say when he finally comes face to face to Mr. and Mrs. Trevor.  Molly, for her part was fretting about Sherlock and kept wondering how she was going to keep this all from going horribly wrong. 

Sherlock was grateful that Mycroft used his government influence to get them a private sitting suite.  He wasn’t sure he could deal with people right now.  Molly had been surprised when the porter had walked them to this part of the train.  She had no idea these were still available, having only seen them in movies.  As they settled in she exclaimed, “I feel like I’m on the Hogswart Express!” 

He knew of her fascination with the magical series having seen the books on her shelves.  “Harry Potter, right?”  He asked.

“Yes, Harry Potter.  I’m impressed you know who that is.”  She teased.

“Sometimes I see as well as observe.”  He proclaimed.  They were sitting opposite each other and he tried to lose himself in deducing her but she caught on rather quickly.

“No deducing me, remember?”  He huffed then tried, in earnest, to come up with what he was going to say to Trevor’s parents.  How can you ever apologize enough for your sister killing their son?  Since their trip to Musgrave his memories of Trevor have become stronger.  He remembers when they first met down by the water; he hadn’t been more than four.  They had skipped stones and stomped through the water with their wellies laughing without a care in the world. 

Later their friendship had been cemented when they both discovered their love of pirates.  Victor had been a precocious boy as well, he had begun to read much younger than most kids their age so he and Sherlock could enjoy their storybooks together.  They would spend hours in his room writing their own pirate stories with their pudgy little fingers making their marks across the page.  He wonders if those stories are still at Musgrave but doesn’t think he will ever go back to look for them.

The memories of their friendship interweave with the words he is trying to come up with to explain this and he’s about to lose it right there in the train car.  She can see how he’s struggling to keep it together and she can’t even imagine how difficult this will be when they finally get to the Trevor’s.  Moving to his side of the car she slides her arms around him, resting her head against his shoulder.

Whether she had planned this from the beginning she’s not sure but soon she found herself tracing patterns across his chest.  His breath hitches as this seems to draw more tension from him instead of calming him as she had hoped.  She has to get him out of his head, get him to think with his emotions, not his logic.  Without really thinking about it she turns, rising to her knees, and pulls him in for a kiss.  Not one of the chaste ones they have been sharing these past weeks but a full-on snog.  At first, he’s caught off guard but quickly joins in the kiss, holding her close to his chest. 

Needing breath, she pulls back as he follows her not wishing to be parted from her.  “Molly!”  He whispers as his lips kiss down her jaw finding her pulse point.  She never would have thought that Sherlock’s mouth could be so talented but she smiles at him as she tries to catch her breath.

He pulls her to his chest, needing her close, not wanting there to be any space between them.  Finding her lips again he realizes that he can’t stop the outpouring of emotions for her.  A tiny part of his brain reminds him that they were putting on hold any relationship changes but the rest of him was willfully ignoring that part.

His hands slide down her back, cupping her arse, pulling it tighter against him.  She can feel how keen he is but she is adamant that their first time will not be on a train, maybe another time though.  She can’t keep that naughty thought from clouding her vision.  It can be the only explanation as to what happened next.

Sliding her bottom closer to his knees, she slips her hands between them.  Without their lips losing contact, she unhooks his trousers and slides down the zip.  Gasping, he tries to pull back but she follows him sliding her fingers into his curls holding his lips to hers.  In the distraction, she was able to slip her other hand beneath his pants, the tips of her fingers taking in the shape and feel of him.

Her heart was racing at the idea that she was actually touching, intimately touching Sherlock.  Despite her many dreams and fantasies, she never really thought it would ever happen.  Feeling overwhelmed and needing to breath, she pulled away for a second, then rested her forehead against his. 

Their breaths were rapid as they locked eyes.  Her hand continued to explore him until she finally wrapped her tiny hand around the base.  His hand stroked her cheek as his eyes asked her why she was doing this.  She never struck him as an exhibitionist.

She planted tiny chaste kisses against his lips, his cheek, moving closer to his earlobe.  When she took his earlobe between her lips she stroked him full for the first time.  “Let me do this for you.”  She whispered into his ear.

There wasn’t any part of him that could have said no at that moment.  He moaned, “I love you.” as her movements became steadier.  With her lips on his and her hands on him, it wasn’t long before he couldn’t hold back any longer.  “Molly!” was all the warning she got before he came in her hand. 

The smile on her face let him know how pleased she was that she was able to do this for him.  The grin on his told her that she had accomplished her goal of taking him out of his head, and getting him to feel again.

All he could think of was ‘to hell with relationship status he needed more of that!’

 

o0oOOo0o

It was late afternoon when they finally arrived in Cardiff.  Untangling from one another they righted their clothing before heading off the train.  Mycroft had arranged for a car to be waiting outside the station; they only had to look for the driver.  Quickly spotted they were soon on their way to the Trevor’s.  It occurred to Molly that she had no idea what she was walking into.  “Do they know we’re coming?”  She asked watching his reaction.

“No.”  He shook his head.  “I didn’t know what to say without giving it away over the phone.  Somehow even I knew that kind of news needed to be given face to face.”  He tightened his grip on her hand the closer they got.

“Do you think they will remember you?”  She asked trying to keep him focused and not running off to his mind palace.

“It’s hard to know.  I mean I would think they would remember the last person to have seen their son alive but then maybe they chose to forget as I did.”

“You didn’t choose to forget, Sherlock, those memories were taken from you.”  She said perhaps a little too forcefully.

He stared at her for a minute then said, “One day you’re going to have to tell me what you and Mycroft talked about when you met for lunch.”  Her eyes popped as she realized she had given away something only Mycroft had told her.  “It’s ok.”  He assured.  “I knew that he met with you and that you discussed me and my childhood.”

Startled, she asked, “How-w?”

“Ple-a-se, I’m Sherlock Holmes!”  She laughed at his pompous arse and he joined in as well.

Soon they had pulled up at the address that Mycroft had given him.  It was a small, quaint cottage with white stucco walls and a small garden just inside the rocky hedge.  He slid out of the car first but kept his hold onto Molly helping her out as well.  They stood there staring at the tiny cottage wondering how they were going to tell the couple that lived there what had happened to their son.

Tightening her grip on his hand, he looked down at her.  Steeling himself, he gave her a nod and they walked down the winding path to knock on the door.  A short, stocky woman answered the door wiping her hands on her apron.  She seemed taken back by the tall man on her doorstep and the petite woman next to him.  Behind them she saw the long fancy hired car and wondered who could they be.

“Mrs. Trevor?”  Sherlock began.

“Yes?  Who’s asking?”  She wasn’t being unkind but was quite curious as to who they could be and what they wanted with her.

“I’m not sure if you’ll remember me or not but I’m Sh- Will Holmes.”  He could see she was trying to place him.  “I was a friend of Victor’s.”  Her eyes went wide as the name finally made sense.

“Will?  My god, it’s been a lifetime.  However did you find us?”  The slightest curve of a smile formed on his face that she had remembered him and not banished him from her memories.  “Come in, come in.”  She ushered them into the front parlor.

Molly stayed close to Sherlock keeping a tight hold on his hand.  Mrs. Trevor looked in her direction and she decided to do the introductions herself.  “Hello Mrs. Trevor.  I’m Molly Hooper, a friend of Sh-, I mean Will.”

“Won’t you sit down?”  She gestured to the sofa as she took a seat across from them in the overstuffed chair.  “Will Holmes, as I live and breathe.  I never thought I’d ever run into you again especially after we moved away.”  She seemed to be studying him, deducing his reason for being here.  He was really beginning to see why other people did not like it when he did it.

“You have something to tell me, something about my Victor?”  He could only nod at her deduction.  “I see.  Let me call my husband then.  I’m sure you’ll want him here as well?”

“Yes, please.”  He choked out.

She left them sitting there but he could hear her on the phone, mostly likely calling Mr. Trevor.  By the sounds coming from the kitchen she was also making tea.  The English’s answer to everything.  But the ritual of tea was soothing as she brought in the tray and they each made up their cup.  Barely into their first sip, Mr. Trevor came crashing through the front door stopping to stare at them.  “Will?”

Sherlock stood extending his hand to Mr. Trevor.  “Mr. Trevor, it’s nice to see you again.”  Mr. Trevor shook his hand then looked over at his wife.  They seemed to have a conversation between them with their eyes that only a couple married for some forty odd years could have.  He sat down in the chair beside his wife, laying his hand over hers where it rested on her chair.

“Will has something to tell us about Victor.”  She tells her husband but Sherlock is sure she already told him that on the phone.  They both look at him waiting for him to get on with it.

His hands shook as they rested against his legs but he tried to fortify himself for this most difficult, most important task.  He owed this to Victor.  “Victor was my best friend.”  He managed to get out.

Mrs. Trevor smiled back at him.  “Yes, you two were inseparable, it seemed, from the moment you met.”  The memory warming her.

“Yes, we were.  We both liked pirates.”  He managed to get out.

“Oh my, did you ever.”  Mr. Trevor added.  “Victor would stay up late reading all those pirate books you two had.  I practically had to pry his sword from his hand to get him to go asleep at night.”

They’re being nice only made what he had to say harder.  It sounded as if they had made peace with Victor’s passing and he was going to bring this all up again.  But they deserved to know what happened to him.

“When Victor disappeared,” He faltered seeing Mr. Victor grip his wife’s hand a bit tighter.  “When Victor disappeared, I tried everything I could to find him.  I looked everywhere I could think of.  I refused to sleep until I could find him.”  His breathing became labored, and he was aware of Molly’s tight hold on his arm.

“We know you did sweetheart.  We know.  You made yourself sick over his disappearance but you were just a little boy yourself.  It wasn’t up to you to find him.”  His best friend’s mother tried to assure him.

“But it was!”  He shot up from the sofa and started pacing, his breathing becoming more labored as he tried to get the words out.  “It was my fault, don’t you see.  It was up to me to find him and I didn’t.  I was too slow.  I couldn’t figure it out in time.”

The Trevor’s looked over to Molly to try to understand what was happening but she kept her eyes fixed on Sherlock.  “Will, dear.  It’s alright.”  Mrs. Trevor tried to say but he came to where she sat and dropped to his knees.

“But, it’s not don’t you see?”  Tears were slipping down his cheeks.  “She hid him because of me.  She was trying to punish _me_.  I was too stupid to figure it out.”

“Who are you talking about?”  Mr. Trevor asked.

“My sister, Eurus.”  He forced out between breaths.

“Your sister?  But she was even younger than you and Trevor.  What does this have to do with her?”

“She’s the one who hid him.  She hid him in a well on the back of our property then she kept singing a song over and over that I was supposed to figure out to find him.”  He fell further to the floor letting the devastation take him under once more.  “But I never did.  I never did.”  He kept repeating.

Mr. and Mrs. Trevor looked at each other, then back at Sherlock, then over to Molly.  Molly felt uncomfortable under their gaze but realized she needed to intervene with Sherlock.  Kneeling down where he was she laid her hand on his cheek.  “Hey, come have some tea.”  She suggested bringing him back to the present.

She helped him back to the sofa and placed the tea cup in his hand.  He struggled to keep it steady but was able to get a few sips of tea within himself.  When he looked back over at the Trevor’s they were holding hands with tears in their own eyes.

“I’m sorry.”  He said, his voice slightly stronger.

“You found him, didn’t you?”  Mr. Trevor’s raspy voice asked.  “You found our boy?”

Sherlock nodded unable to say the words.

Mrs. Trevor cried harder at that acknowledgement that her dear son was indeed dead.  Sherlock reached for Molly’s hand needing her strength more than ever. 

They spent another hour with the Trevor’s giving them further details and letting them know where Victor was now so they could lay him to rest properly.  When they were heading back to the train station, Sherlock wouldn’t say he felt good but it did seem as if some of the burden had been lifted.  He held Molly the entire way back to London, glad that she was there for him.

o0oOOo0o


	18. A New Normal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a very good excuse for this chapter being delayed.....it involved a summer term, a birthday, Jimmy Buffett, and margaritas....lots of margaritas.  
> Enjoy this smallish chapter while I final edit the next one. I hope to have it out in a few days.

Slowly things start to resemble a new normal.  With everyone still grieving Mary, John most of all, they have banded together to be there for Rosie and for John.  They take turns babysitting Rosie along with Mrs. Hudson, even Lestrade had been pressed into service on occasion.  Initially afraid of being alone with the infant, Sherlock began to relish his time with the tiny Watson.  She tolerates his violin playing better than her father did and he likes dancing with her as he listens to his compositions being played back.

With Rosie in his arms he was waltzing around the room to his latest composition, keeping his hand securely at her back.  Her eyes were transfixed on him as they swirled to the music.  He seemed transported by the music but at the same time aware of her delightful squeals, he’s smiling back at her.

This was the scene that Molly and John walked into one night after their shifts ran late and he had covered after her nanny had left.  They both stared mouths agape at the great Sherlock Holmes dancing across the lounge with a baby in his arms.  When he saw them, he stopped abruptly a little embarrassed to be caught.  Quickly he shut off the music on his phone.

Rosie seemed disappointed that their dancing was over and began to pat at his chest.  “Sorry Rosamund, it seems I neglected to notice the time and it is past your bedtime.” 

John collected Rosie from his arms.  “It’s alright sweetheart.  I’m sure Uncle Sherlock will come dance with you another time.”  He winked at Sherlock as he took Rosie up the stairs to her bed.

When John left the room, Molly hurried across the room and threw her arms around him.  He could tell that she was crying and he immediately worried that something was wrong.  “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”  He asked as he stroked her hair.

Shaking her head, she mumbled, “nothing”, holding him close.

Leaning back, he tried to catch her eye, “What’s going on?  Why are you crying?”

“You….Rosie…..that was just so sweet, so precious.”  She stuttered out while trying to not be so emotional about seeing him holding a baby in his arms.

He kissed her forehead grateful that all was well, then with a smile on his face he stepped back from her and held his hand out to her, palm up.  “May I have this dance?”

Her face brightened at the idea of dancing with him, and suddenly all of her Victorian era novels came to mind.  “I would be delighted, sir.”  She curtsied. 

He started the music again, then with one arm around her waist and the other holding her hand he whisked her around the tiny lounge as if it was an elegant ballroom.  The joy on her face rivaled that of Rosie’s earlier but his eyes never left her.  He felt his heart pound as he realized that she was the most beautiful person he had ever known.  ‘How had he not seen that before?  Is that what love did?  Did it get you to see what has been right in front of you all this time, most clearly?’  He thought maybe it was.  As the song came to a close he slowed their movements moving his hand to her cheek.  Bending down he captured her lips in his hoping he was able to convey his feelings for her fully within the kiss.

Watching from the stairwell John smiled at his friends, glad that they finally found each other, hoping that they too can have some of the happiness that he had, even if it was only for awhile.

o0oOOo0o

Slowly the relationship between John and Sherlock repairs itself; in some ways better than it had been before.  They have both been to hell together and separately.  Somehow now they understand each other more than they had in the past.  Slowly they begin taking on cases again; trying to return some normalcy to their lives.

Since he promised not to bring clients to Molly’s and John also didn’t want clients around Rosie he decided it best to forgo private clients for the time being.  He only did his work with Scotland Yard and Lestrade.  Whereas in the past this would have found him at loose ends and dangerously bored he had much to keep him occupied. 

Rosie took up a great deal of his time with John’s odd hours at the clinic.  He had also been doing a great deal of composing in preparation for his weekly visits to Sherrinford.  He wasn’t sure if they were helping Eurus but they seemed to be giving him some clarity with the situation.  Each time he played for her, he remembered something else from their childhood.  It wasn’t all bad he began to piece together.

It wasn’t until the third week that Eurus acknowledged him by standing and another two before she picked up her violin.  But now it seemed they were conversing through the notes that they pulled from their instruments.  He needed to be prepared with what he wanted to say to her each week, and what he did not.  Although she had asked several times about Molly, he refused to answer anything in regards to her.  He’s sure that Eurus can deduce what his silence on the subject means but this is personal, private just for the two of them. 

Finally, he broaches the subject with her of their parents visiting.  Immediately she stops playing, staring at him, through him.  He’s afraid she has retreated again into herself until he sees a lone tear slide down her cheek.  In all his memories, he cannot recall ever a time when Eurus cried.

Choosing to use words over the notes of the violin, he quietly says, “They want to see you Eurus.  Their desperate to see you.  It’s not their fault they stayed away.  They were lied to; they were told you were dead.”  Abruptly she turns from him so he cannot see her face and the emotions they contain.

Unsure as to whether she has retreated within herself again, he begins to pack away his violin.  He is startled by the one note played across her instrument.  “Yes?” he asks to be sure.  “Should I bring them next time?”  Slowly she turns to him, accessing him, then gives him a slight nod.  He gives her a smile back.  Picking up his bag, he says, “See you next week.”  When he is gone, Eurus tentatively feels at her cheek, examining the wetness there, trying to comprehend its meaning.

o0oOOo0o


	19. I Need to Remember

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a ridiculously loong chapter. Hopefully it will make up for my missed posting weeks. So grab a cuppa, find a comfy spot, and I hope you enjoy it.

It was after the successful trip when he and Mycroft had taken their parents to Sherrinford that he decided it was time that they had met Molly.  His mum was over the moon when he called asking if he could come out for the weekend, and bring a friend.  Typically, Sherlock had avoided all family encounters but since learning of his past he found himself drawn to them. 

When he informed Molly that he had made plans for the both of them to visit with his parents for the weekend she became extremely nervous.  He assured her that they would love her but she was still unsure.  They were so different: he was posh, look at the estate he grew up on?  It wasn’t lost on her that most people didn’t embrace her career path.  Tom’s parents would only introduce her as a doctor; they never mentioned her specialty.  She knew why.  So as the weekend approached so did the escalation of her nerves.

She expected that they would travel in another one of Mycroft’s endless chauffeured cars so imagine her surprise when he escorted her to a red sports car parked at the kerb.  “Sherlock!  This is an Aston Martin!”

“Yes Molly, I’m well aware.”  He says as he shoves their bags into the tiny boot.

She studies him over the top of the car as he goes to get into the vehicle.  “This isn’t your car.”  It’s not a question but a statement.  Molly Hooper deducing him again.

“No, it’s not but I promise I haven’t stolen it.”  He gives her a big grin before putting it in gear and moving through London traffic.  When her eyes don’t stop assessing him he finally gives in and tells her.  “It’s Mrs. Hudson’s car.”  Her eyes widen at this revelation.  “She lets me borrow it sometimes.”

“Mrs. Hudson drives a high-performance sports car costing over 100,000 pounds?”  She asks incredulously.

“and owns property in central London.  Really Molly, does everyone forget her late husband ran a drug cartel?”  He teasingly mocks her while giving her a little smile.

She falls back against the seat totally reevaluating his busybody landlady.  When they finally get out of the city and on the country roads he enjoys putting it into gear and putting the car through its paces.  Molly braces herself against the front panel and the window as he takes the curves at …..  well, she can’t see the speedometer but really, really fast!  “Christ, Sherlock!  Slow down!”  She pleads.

When he sees the panic on her face he lowers the speed to something more sedate.  “Thank you.”  She sighs when her life stops flashing before her eyes.

He laughs.  “At least you didn’t have to experience that while being handcuffed in the boot!” 

Looking in his direction she can tell he’s being serious.  “So, who did you piss off that did that?”  She asked, wondering which case it was.

Slightly more soberly he says, “Mrs. Hudson.”

“Mrs. Hudson?”  She exclaims.

“Yes, she was being mean.  Had the boys from the café put me in, dropped me twice they did.  I was very cross with her.”  He stated petulantly.

Molly started laughing, “Mrs. Hudson …..put you in the boot ……OMG ……and she handcuffed you.”  He didn’t appreciate her laughter and chose to not look at her.  When she got herself under control she stated, “I’m going to need to come around her place more often for tea, and tips, on how to handle you.” 

“You don’t need any more tips.  You handle me just fine.”  He stated casually.

“Oh, do I?”  Her eyebrows raised up and down, and Sherlocks face went crimson.  “Good, to know.”

o0oOOo0o

In a little more than an hour they pulled into the drive of a quaint red cottage covered in roses.  There were goats grazing off in the distance, and as they got closer she could see an extensive kitchen garden surrounding the house.

After he shut off the engine, he popped out of the car and went to her side opening the door.  When he offered her his hand she stared at him with that look that said ‘who are you and what have you done with Sherlock Holmes?’  He rolled his eyes at her.  “I know I’m never a gentleman but I am trying, and besides I’d rather not get a tongue lashing from my mum on manners.”

She smiled as she let him help her from the car.  “You best be careful.  I might get used to this.”  She teased, patting his chest.  He didn’t let her see the smile that that thought gave him.

As he was getting their bags from the boot, his mum came out to greet them.  Seeing his mum, he left the bags and gave his mum a proper hug.  Molly could see the tears welling in her eyes.  _‘This is recent.  He didn’t always greet her like this.’_   She took a deep breath trying to not let the emotions get to her as well.

“Mum, I want you to meet Molly, Molly Hooper.”  He brought them over to where Molly waited next to the car.  “Molly, this is my mum.”

“Mrs. Holmes, thank you for having me at your lovely home.”  She extends her hand in greeting but Sherlock’s mum pulls her into a tight embrace.

As she stepped back she said, “I’m happy to finally meet you.  I was beginning to think Sherlock had made you up.”

Looking from his mum over to him she sees the blush on his face confirming that she spoke the truth.  “He…he told you about me?”  Still shocked that he would have.

Waving her hand as she turned back towards the house she said off-handed, “Oh, he’s been telling me about you for years dear.  Honestly, I was sure it was one of his stories.”  She looks back her way.  “I mean, no one puts up with Sherlock for this long.”

Rolling his eyes as he goes back to get the bags he pouts, “Thanks mum!”

As they enter the house, Molly is immediately embraced by the warmth and coziness of the place.  The kitchen is relatively small but big enough for the large table that would have served for the family meals.  Mrs. Holmes promptly begins preparing tea while shooing them off to put their bags in Sherlock’s room.

She takes a peek into the cozy lounge with the large stone fireplace and the comfy furniture as she follows Sherlock upstairs.  Opening the first door to the right at the top of the stairs he drops their bags onto the bed, then falls across it stretching out his limbs.  He seemed quite at home there.  “This is your room.”  Again not a question.

But he confirms it anyways.  “Yes, you wouldn’t actually want to sleep in Mycroft’s room, would you?”  He gives a shudder at the thought.

Slowly she makes her way around the room, taking in the books, the toys, the treasures of his youth.  “Will he be coming this weekend too?”  She asks.

“No, thankfully some upstart nation has formed a coup or something so we will be spared his presence this weekend.”

She laughed at how he always has to put Mycroft in a different category than himself.  She’s sure he doesn’t know he even does it….well, a topic for another day.  As she finished the tour of his childhood she turns to him, “There aren’t any pirate things here?”

He felt his chest tighten at the thought.  He understood why she was asking but for the first time realized he never had.  He never questioned why there was no memorabilia of something that had been important to him.  “No, I guess there aren’t.  I hadn’t realized that before.”  He said looking around his room with the eyes of a detective.

As she came near the bed he sat up pulling her between his legs.  With his arms around her he smiled then gave her a chaste kiss.  “That’s a first.”  She gave him a puzzling look.  With a grin, he said, “You’re the first girl I ever kissed in my room.”

“Really?  The first one?”  He nodded.  “I would have thought with your good looks the girls would have been all over you.”

He coughed.  “Well maybe, but then I’d start deducing them and that usually shut things down fairly quickly.”

“Oh Sherlock!”  She took pity on him and kissed him again, this time a little less chaste.  They both were blushing when they parted.

“Sherlock!  Molly!  Tea time!”  They heard Sherlock’s mum shout up the stairs.

Molly starts to pull away to head down when he tightens his hold on her.  “Hey, thank you for coming here with me.”  He says before giving her one more kiss.

“It is my honor.”  She assured him.  Taking his hand, he led them back downstairs.

When they came into the kitchen there was an older gentleman sitting at the table preparing his tea.  “Father.”  Sherlock says as his father rises from his chair.  Quickly they embrace then Sherlock turns to introduce Molly.  “Father, this is Molly, Molly Hooper.  Molly, this is my father.”  Mr. Holmes gives her a warm hug welcoming her to their home. 

“Everyone take their seats.  There’s tea, and I’ve made scones with cream and jam, just like you like Sherlock.”  Mrs. Holmes announced as they took their seats.  “I would have made pastries but then that was always more Mycroft’s thing than yours.  Molly dear, do you like pastries?”  She asked just as she was about to sip her tea.

“Yes, their lovely but I try not to have them too often.”  Quickly she tried to hide behind her tea mug looking over at Sherlock.

Seeing her discomfort, he tried to steer the conversation away from Molly.  “The scones are quite good.  Mrs. Hudson’s have been a bit lacking as of late.”

“Oh you!”, his mother tutted.  “You should be grateful that Martha bakes for you at all, considering all that you put her through.”

Smirking at his mother he quipped, “Yes, but she loves me.” then takes a large bite of scone.

“God, you are such a child!”  Molly admonishes him, shaking her head.

Mrs. Holmes smiles over to Mr. Holmes.  “So, what would you two like to do while you are here?” 

“We didn’t have much planned.”  He answered for them, “we just wanted to get out of London for a bit.”

“It’s been ages since I’ve been to the country.”  Molly added.  “I’d quite enjoy a walkabout without having to worry about being mugged or run over by a double-decker bus.”

Mrs. Holmes tutted, “I don’t know how you can stand living in the city all the time.  It’s lovely to go to the theatre or the shops but the noise, the traffic.  I could never live that life everyday.”

“London has an energy.  It’s a life all its own.”  He tries to explain.  “Besides they would never have such interesting murders out here in the country.”

His mother throws her hands up.  “Good God, son.”  His father admonishes.  “That is hardly proper talk with ladies’ present.” 

“Father, Molly is a pathologist.  She has seen far more death and murder than even I have.”  They all turn to look at her.

Blushing, she confessed, “Guilty.”

o0oOOo0o

“So who’s up for a walk?”  Sherlock tried to divert the subject.  Mr. Holmes begged off as he had already conducted his daily constitutional.  Mrs. Holmes told them to go on without her as she wanted to get a start on the evening meal.  So, Molly and Sherlock found themselves alone as they pulled on their coats heading out the door.

“Sorry about that.”  She says as they start around the house heading to the meadow.

“Sorry about what?”  He asks genuinely unaware as to what she is apologizing for.

Looking down at her feet she admits, “My profession….it, doesn’t usually go over very well with parents.”

Grabbing her hand, he stops her forcing her to turn and look at him.  “Molly you are a specialist registrar, top in your field, you are published in medical journals throughout the world.  There is no reason for you to be anything but proud of your accomplishments.”

Although he can see her smiling at his praise her eyes are still looking down.  Pulling her close, he gently raises her chin so that she can see in his eyes when he says, “and you are the pathologist of choice by the only consulting detective in the world.”

She breaks out in a grin when he’s finished.  “Well, with accolades like that…….”  Smiling back at her he leans down so that they can share a kiss.

When they part, he jokes, “I think we should probably continue our walk.  I think we just gave my mother a case of the vapors.”

She giggles.  “Do you think she was watching?”

Taking her hand in his, they continue on their walk, “Oh most definitely!”

o0oOOo0o

As they walked through the tall grasses she can feel his fingers playing within hers.  It’s not that he’s trying to get away from her; he just wants her to know he is still there.  She can’t seem to get rid of the permanent smile on her face.

The fresh country air feels good within his lungs.  That surprises him as he usually feels stifled and strangled by it when comes to his parents.  He supposes it was really the past that was strangling him.  So much has been revealed to him about his past, his life, his family, and his feelings that he doesn’t feel much like the man who used to protest even the twice yearly trek to Sussex.  Looking over at Molly’s smiling face, he is happy that she is there to share this with.

Coming to the edge of the property, he helps her over the low stone wall so that they can walk along the narrow roadway.  Shortly they see the village up ahead.  Walking down the narrow walkways in front of the shops he points out some of the ones he used to frequent when he was a child.  When they arrive at the Bakery Café he opens the door for her ushering her in.  “They have the best coffee in town.”  He announces as if to explain why they are here.

As she looks over the menu board he strides up to the counter to place his order.  “Large coffee, black, two sugars.”  Looking in her direction, he adds, “and whatever she’s having.”  It feels strange being here in the coffee shop of his youth with someone, someone he loves. 

She caught his smile, and smiled back before placing her order at the counter.  Just as the barista handed him his cup, an elderly woman with long white hair braided down her back entered from the kitchen.  She caught his eye as hers stared him down, making him feel ten years old again.  “William?  William Holmes is that you?”  He heard the sharpness in her tone that always held him into place.

“Yes, Mrs. McKinney it is.”  He stood still waiting for her to make it around the counter.

Looking up at him she seemed surprised that she could no longer tower over him to admonish him for his latest.  Raising her hand to his chin, she smiled.  “You seemed to have turned into a fine young man.”  He blushed at her praise.  When Molly came over next to him, she added.  “Who do we have here?”

“Mrs. McKinney, this is Molly Hooper, my…my partner.”  He stutters, unsure what title she would be comfortable with.  They hadn’t really discussed it.  Was she his girlfriend?  That seemed such a juvenile term for people in their thirties.

At least she was still smiling at him.  “Molly, this is Mrs. McKinney.  She would regularly administer lectures to me on my many shortcomings…..as well as make the best coffee in town.”  He winked over to Mrs. McKinney.

“Nice to meet you Molly.”  She nodded in her direction, then turned towards Sherlock.  “Well it seems you must have been paying some attention.  As I understand it you have made quite a name for yourself in the big city of London.”  He grinned at the accolades of one who he had strived to appease.  “But you know, you’re still little William Holmes to me young man, so don’t pull any of your nonsense!”  She teasingly waggled her finger at him before heading back behind the counter.

He smirked at her admonishment then led them over to the small table by the window.  As they sat down she bit her lip wondering if this would be a good time to ask.  She had been wondering since Cardiff.  “So Sherlock, can I ask you something?”

He brought his gaze back from the street beyond the window to settle on her.  “Of course.”  He answers as he sips his coffee.

“Why do so many people call you William?”  She was hoping this wouldn’t bring up the difficult time at the Trevors.

He scrunched up his eyes in confusion, “Because it’s my name.”  He answered matter-of-factly, like it wasn’t obvious.

“No, your name is Sherlock.”  She countered.

With a big sigh, he revealed, “My full name is William Sherlock Scott Holmes.  At different points in my life I have tried different variations of it.  Growing up I was William, or Will.  For a while in boarding school, I went by Scott.  By the time, I went to Uni I decided on Sherlock.  That seemed to fit me so I’ve kept that one.  It is my preferred name……especially when uttered by you.”  He blushed as he said that last part reaching over to twine his fingers with hers.

Blushing back at him, she acknowledged, “I knew your full name…. since, well since I had to fill out your death certificate.”  He stiffened at the thought of putting her through that whole ordeal, and he gathered more of her hand in his.  “I just didn’t know that you went by anything other than Sherlock.”

He shrugged his shoulders.  “It’s not a big thing.  Most everyone I know calls me Sherlock.”  He looks out the window, gesturing to his boyhood hamlet.  “Except a few of the locals.  I finally convinced even my mum to call me Sherlock, although William will slip out when she’s exasperated with me….so frequently.”  She giggles at his admission.  “But I really know I am in trouble when I get all of them.”  He admits.  “Whenever I hear, ‘William Sherlock Scott Holmes’, my spine automatically goes stiff!”  He grins.

“Oh yes, I know what you mean.  If my dad ever said, ‘Margaret Louise Hooper’ I knew I was in for it.”  They both chuckled at their shared past memories.

She looks over as he is clearly deducing her.  “No deducing Sherlock….or should I say _William_!”  She teases.

“No, not deducing.  I was just trying to picture you as a Margaret…..no, definitely not…that is too librarian matron.”  She giggles.  “Definitely Molly, Molly suits you.”

“Thank you Sherlock.”  She smiles back at him.

Getting up from his seat, “We should probably head back.  Mummy will be wondering where we have disappeared to.”  His eyes veer off to the left catching Mrs. McKinney’s watchful eye.  “Although I’m sure she already knows exactly where we are.”  Molly follows his eyes and catches Mrs. McKinney keeping her eye on them.  “Honestly, Mycroft should put her on the MI-6 payroll.”  He jokes while helping Molly with her coat.

o0oOOo0o

After a wonderful home-cooked meal, the family retires to the sitting room.  Mr. Holmes stokes the fire then turning to Sherlock he says, “Son, come help me bring in some firewood.”

Sherlock rolls his eyes but dutifully follows his father out back.  Mr. Holmes stops at the chopping block, leaning on the ax imbedded into the old tree stump.  “She seems lovely son.”  He says, hoping he won’t shut down this conversation before it begins.

“Yes, yes, she is.”  He grunts as he begins to gather wood from the enormous pile of wood already chopped. 

“Is she the one?”  His father dares ask.

Turning towards his father with several logs piled in his arms he says, “This wasn’t really about firewood, was it?”

Chuckling, his father admits, “No, not really.” 

Sherlock drops the logs at his feet as he begins to pace slowly.  Several times he stopped and looked at his father but then resumed again before speaking.  Finally, he asked him, “Father, how do you know if she’s the one?”

His father’s eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline to realize his son was asking him for the answers.  He’d stopped asking him long before his fifth birthday, already realizing he was far more intelligent than his dear old dad.  He shuffled over to the long log that used to once be the old chestnut tree and eased himself down.  Patting the seat next to him, Sherlock ambled over and plopped down next to him.

“How do you know she’s the one?”  He directed his question to Sherlock, who nodded in acknowledgement.  “Sherlock, my boy that is the hardest and the easiest of questions to answer.”

Sherlock looked exasperated and was about to jump from his seat and stomp off when his father continued.  “When you love a woman, and she loves you back there is something that changes inside you.  You see the world differently, the colors are brighter, smells are sweeter, sounds are more beautiful.  But what truly changes is your heart.”  He taps his fingers against his chest.  “If she’s ten minutes late your mind goes into overdrive with worry about what could have happened, your heart aches when she is not around, and it speeds up when she walks into a room.  You imagine your future with her in it, beside you, even when your old.”

He looks to see if any of this making sense to Sherlock but his face gives nothing away.  So he tries a different tact.  “When I first met your mother, I fell in love with her beautiful mind.  She is so amazingly intelligent that I was in awe.  It wasn’t until later that I realized how beautiful she was.   The more I got to know her the more I wanted to know.  I never wanted to be parted from her.  When we were just twenty-three years old and in university I could picture her alongside me in my old age and I knew she was the one I wanted there by my side. And all these years later, I still feel the same.”

Sherlock was staring at the pile of firewood on the ground, digesting his father’s words.  For so long that kind of tripe would have had him rolling his eyes and stomping off to find a good case.  But as his father had spoken he could picture those feelings between he and Molly.  He did panic when she wasn’t where he expected her to be.  Once he had Mycroft call in his team to investigate her disappearance only to find out she had gone on a hen weekend with some mates from uni.

He can definitely say that he has changed the way he looks at the world thanks to Molly.  She has always brought a different perspective to him that he realizes he sought out more and more as the years passed.  He had no doubt that his body reacted when she came into a room.  Even with her oversized jumpers and baggy trousers she took his breath away.

Coming out of his mind palace, he looks over to his father with a smile.  Mr. Holmes grabs him at the shoulder, “She’s lovely Sherlock.  I can see she will make you very happy.”

His smile then falters, “I’ve always known that father.  What I don’t know is can I make her happy?”

Without hesitation, his father answers him back, “Son, you are brilliant and a genius at many things.  When your heart is in it as well as your mind, you can do anything.”

Sherlock nods at this insight.

“We should probably get back.  I’m sure your mother has pulled out the photo albums by now.”

He was up like a shot.  “Oh, dear god!”  Quickly picking up the firewood he dashed back into the house. 

o0oOOo0o

He was too late.  As he walked through the door he heard Molly squeal in delight.  As he got closer he saw the album laying across her lap as his mother pointed to a photo.  “Mummy, really?  Did you have to get out the photo albums?”  He complained as he stacked the wood in the basket by the hearth.

“Oh, hush you!”  His mother admonished while laughing at his indignity.

As he stood there watching his mother and his Molly bonding he was struck that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard his mum laugh.  ‘Had it really been that long?’  ‘Have I really been such an insufferable git that I have denied her, even laughter?’ 

As he stood there, his father pressed a tumbler of scotch into his hand.  Scotch was not his drink of choice, more Mycroft’s but he thanked his father none the same.  He watched as his father sat next to his wife, his eyes smiling towards her, then the photo album.  This was his family, a family he had denied for most of his life. 

His thoughts turned to sadness, then anger that so much had been taken from him.  It wasn’t just Victor, or his childhood, but his entire life.  His entire life had been shaped by those events.  How he saw the world was shaped by what Eurus had done.  ‘Is that what Mycroft had meant?’  His grip on the tumbler tightened as he began to get himself into a strop about it all when Molly’s laughter broke him from it.

Looking over at her she was holding her hand against her mouth trying to contain the giggles.  Choosing the present over the past, he sat his tumbler on the mantelpiece and came around the sofa to see what was so funny.  He positioned his face next to hers as he looked over her shoulders.  Momentarily she leaned into him as she said, “I can’t believe you were ever able to convince Mycroft to let you bury him in the sand!”

He smiled at the photo of teen Mycroft buried up to his chin, Sherlock’s pirate hat upon his head, and his sword sticking out of the sand over his chest.  “Yeah, that was a good day!  The best part was teasing him with the crabs that we found on the seashore.  When Victor and I dropped them over his chest, Mycroft shot out of the sand like a bullet from a cannon!”

He was surprised by his mother’s gasp and quickly looked her way.  “You remember that?”

Uncertain how to answer he quietly admitted, “Yes?”

“Oh my sweet boy!” She choked out while tears welled in her eyes.  His father put his arm around her, comforting her.

Molly looked at him, uncertain what was going on.  He had no idea so he kept quiet.  It took a few minutes before his father finally spoke.  “Sorry about that, just a bit emotional, is all.”

“I can see that.”  Sherlock said, “but why?”  His puzzled expression let them know his question was genuine.

“Because, as far as we know, you have never remembered anything before the age of six before.  This happened the summer after your fifth birthday.”  His father related.

“Oh!”  Sherlock wasn’t sure what else to say to that.  It was the feel of Molly’s hand on his that kept him from retreating inside his mind palace.  That was his instinct when emotions were uncomfortable.  Molly was his touchstone, the one who somehow makes it all make sense.  He grasped her hand tighter, holding on for dear life.  “I hadn’t realized…..I..I’ve been having lots of new memories lately, mostly of Victor.  I didn’t realize that one was new.”

His mum reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze.  He found himself squeezing back on instinct.  His mum gave him grateful look, and somehow, he realized he needed to say something here. 

“I don’t blame you.”  Her hold on his hand tightened.  “You were scared, you thought you were doing the right thing.”  He broke free of her grasp and began to pace behind the sofa.  “Hell, maybe it even was the right thing.  Who’s to say?  We’ll never know how things would have played out if I would have gone through life burdened with the knowledge of what my sister did to my best friend…..and may be that’s a good thing.”  He stopped to look at Molly who was giving him a sad smile. 

Turning towards his parents, his hand automatically ran through his hair, and somehow, he felt like teenage Sherlock trying to explain why he blew up the shed (again) with his latest experiment.  “I’ve been trying to remember.  I went back to Musgrave, went through the house.”  He stopped when they gaped at him.  “I need to remember.  I need to understand what happened, who I was then.  I feel lost, like a part of me is lost.  Before Sherrinford I didn’t know it was missing but now that I do.  I want it back.”

His mum came round the sofa to where he stood.  To her he looked like her lost little boy.  He didn’t even hesitate when she put her arms around him but melted into her embrace.  When they finally parted several minutes later, both of their cheeks were glistening.  Tugging on his hand, she led him back to the sofa.  Molly moved over so he could sit between his mum and her.  Discreetly tissues were passed around then his mum opened the album again.  “Let’s see if we can help you with your missing memories.”

It was late when they all finally went to bed, exhausted but content.  His arms wrapped around Molly as she snuggled into him.  “I love you.”  She whispered as he drifted off to sleep.

“Love you too”, he mumbled.

o0oOOo0o


	20. This Definitely Isn’t the Right Place

He woke to the sweet smell of Molly’s hair in his nostrils.  Nuzzling closer to her, his hands unconsciously began to wander.  It was when they began idly stroking her breast that she began to stir. 

She woke with the feel of him all around her, stoking her fire with his gentle touches.  Instinctively she wiggled closer to him feeling the fullness of his erection against her backside.  Without thought as to where they were she turned, searching for his mouth as hers greedily found his lips.  Pushing him onto his back, she slid on top of him, feeling him against her, knowing how much she wanted to feel him inside her.

It wasn’t until they heard the distinctive sounds of his mum in the kitchen below that reality sunk in.  They were in his childhood bedroom, in his parent’s home……this is NOT where they were going to be together for the first time.

Falling to his side, she turned onto her back, lying beside him, both of them staring at the ceiling.  “Sorry”, she mumbled.

He turned to look at her.  “Molly, you have nothing to be sorry about.  We agreed when we are both ready.  We might be getting closer to that but this isn’t the right place.”

She shook her head, “No, this definitely isn’t the right place.”

He took her hand, raising it to his lips, he gently kissed her finger tips.  “I do enjoy waking up with you in my arms.”

Turning in his direction, she stroked his cheek, letting her fingers stray across his lips, feeling his kiss against them.  “This still feels like a dream, a fantasy.  I never thought we would ever be here.”

Smiling at her, he asks, “Is reality fulfilling your dream?”

The smile on her face answers his question but she answers anyways.  “This is a reality I never thought possible, Sherlock.  Not really.  After all this time, I had to accept that we would only be friends.”  He drops his eyes.  “Hey, not your fault, ok?”  He nods even though he doesn’t agree.  “Being this close to you, this physically close to you…… It’s not enough.  I want all of you.  I want to give you all of me.”

He pulls her close kissing her lips, giving himself to her, as she gives herself to him.  The clanging of a pot   from below remind them that now is not the time.  “Home.”  She says as they part.

“Yes, home.  Tonight?”  He asks tentatively.

“Definitely tonight!”  She gives him one last kiss before jumping from the bed.

He can hear the shower running in the loo next to his room.  His thoughts drift to Molly, to how she makes him feel, to the touch of her skin.  He remembers how she tasted as he had explored her skin, her nipple fit so nicely between his lips.  He feels the stroke of her hand as she slides up and down his member.  Her grip near the base causes him to arch up, seeking her out.  It isn’t until he comes that he realizes he just wanked off in his childhood bed to his memory of Molly on the train.

Of course, it was at that moment that she sauntered back into the room, looking refreshed from her shower.  Quickly he made his excuses for his own shower as he fled to the loo.  Blasting the cold water against himself he was finally able to get himself under control.  Molly smirked as she identified that distinctive smell in the air.

o0oOOo0o

When he finally made it to the kitchen his mum and Molly were up to the elbows in baking flour chatting away.  “What are you two up to?”  He asked as he stopped by Molly for a chaste kiss on the way to make his cuppa.

Smiling, his mum said, “We thought we’d make some biscuits.  Do you still like ginger nuts?”  His eyes lit up.  “I’ll take that as a yes.” His mum chortled.

“Sherlock, what would you like for breakfast?”  Molly inquired.

“Just tea is fine.”  He responded, looking through the various sections of the paper until he found one that interested him.

“Sherlock, you are not going to eat biscuits for breakfast!”  She admonished.  “How about some eggs?”

He tried hiding his smirk behind the paper but she was too adorable to resist.  “Yes dear, that would be lovely…..and some scones too?”

She was so flustered by the ‘yes dear’ that she couldn’t move.  Luckily his mum went straight to the hob whipping him up a batch of scrambled with a side of scones.  “Thanks Mum.”  He said as he slathered cream on his warm scone.

While pretending to read the newspaper he watched his mum and Molly over the edge of the newspaper.  They seemed to work with an ease of two who had known one another much longer than a day.  He marveled how easily Molly fit.  She fit him, and his family.  She fit his family even more so than he did.  Memories of the elaborate schemes he created to avoid spending time with them passed through his mind.  Watching the ease that Molly interacted with his mum made his heart ache for that level of comfortableness.

He was brought out of his thoughts when their conversation turned to him.  “So you met Sherlock at Bart’s?”  Molly nodded as she spooned cookie dough onto cookie sheets.  “Do you get involved with his cases?”  Sneaking a look in Sherlock’s direction she was sure he was listening despite the look of boredom on his face.

“Not all of them.  Usually just the murders.”  His mum shivered in her spot.  “Sorry, but it is what I do.”

He found himself getting angry that she felt the need to apologize for who she was.  “Stop apologizing for being the best pathologist in all on London, possibly England!”  He gave her a stern, but loving look.

Blushing she focused on spooning the cookie dough while his mum stopped stirring to witness the exchange between the two of them.  She could see how much her son respected Molly, and her profession. 

“Molly, I don’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable with what you do.  It’s just not my area.”  Molly smiled back at her at the expression she had heard so very often from her son.  “As I’m sure I could bore you to tears in a matter of minutes if I started on about mathematics!”

“She’s not wrong about that!”, Sherlock spouted from behind the newspaper.

“Oh, hush you!”  His mother admonished.

“It’s ok, really.”  Molly placated.  “It’s not for everyone.  Sherlock is one of my few friends who actually wants to hear about my cases.”

In an effort to divert the conversation, she asks, “So what have you and Sherlock been up to lately?”

“We went to Musgrave.”  Sherlock announced as he put aside the paper.

His mum stared at him, then made herself busy stirring the batter muttering, “I can’t imagine why you’d want to go there to that drafty old place.” She pretended not to notice him shift in his seat.

Leaning forward onto the table he gave his mum a soft look.  “I needed to confront the past without a deadline looming over my head.  I needed answers.”

Pulling the tea towel into her hands she slowly asked, “Did you find them?”

Something on the surface of the table caught his attention as he ran his finger over it.  “I found some.”  He looked back up.  “and I found more questions as well.”

Molly watched as they both were so tentative with one another.  She knew this was most likely a far more involved conversation than they have had in years, if ever.   While wondering how she could ease the tension, the oven timer went off indicating that the first batch was done.  Laying the cookie sheet on the tile counter she looked over her shoulder, “Sherlock, can you move these biscuits to the cooling rack?”

Walking past his silent mum, he used the spatula to move them to the rack.  Molly quietly slid past them to put the next batch into the oven, reset the timer, then retreated out of the kitchen.  She wasn’t sure if she was doing the right thing but she wanted to give them the opportunity to have this conversation.  Sherlock wouldn’t have minded her staying but she didn’t think Mrs. Holmes would feel comfortable discussing secrets that she had carried for decades in front of a stranger.

When he was finished, he stood there next to the counter counting the silence between them.  Ready to retreat himself he turned to leave but his mum caught his hand.  She squeezed it while raising her watery eyes to his.  “I’m sorry that we kept all this from you.  We really thought we were doing the right thing.”

He squeezed her hand back.  “Mum, you probably did but now I know or at least I think I know.”  Moving away he ran his fingers through his hair, “There are so many holes, unknowns.  I need to know.”  Turning in her direction he pleaded, “Can you understand that?”

“Yes ….yes, I can.”  She choked out.  “Sit.  I’ll make us some tea.”  He stared at her, trying to deduce if she really meant that.  “And stop trying to deduce me, young man!”

He chuckled, cause he never could get away with that with her. 

When the kettle was ready she poured the water in the blue and white teapot that he remembers from when he was a child.  The tea tray was filled with all the makings for tea, and a generous helping of ginger nuts.  His eyes delighted when he saw the biscuits and it made his mum smile.

After she sipped her tea, she placed her cup down, and faced him straight on.  “Ok, what are your questions?”

He hid behind his tea cup for several more sips sorting his questions by importance.  Finally, he asked, “Why are all my childhood things still in my old room at Musgrave?”

Taking a deep breath, she began.  “The therapist thought it would be better for you if you made a clean break of that life.  It was suggested to let you start fresh here.”

He nodded.  As an adult he could see the logic in that.  “But didn’t I want my things?”

“At first you were so fixated on Victor and Eurus that you didn’t seem to notice.  When you finally did, we told you they were lost in the fire.”  Her fingers traced the rim of the cup as if reliving the past.

“Why did you do what the therapist told you?”  His mum rarely did what others told her or expected of her.  He supposes he came upon those traits honestly.

She fiddled with the handle of her teacup while searching for an answer.  “I don’t know.  We were all at such a loss as to what to do.  My baby girl had been taken away and they wouldn’t let me see her.  You were nearly stuck inside yourself.  You wouldn’t talk, barely ate or slept.  The only person you would talked to at all was Mycroft.”  He wrinkled his nose at the idea of confiding into Mycroft.

“We were scared.  Our family was broken.  We’d already lost one child, and we were scared that we were going to lose another.  We put our trust into the professionals.   It was obvious we didn’t know how to parent.”  Tears were slowly falling down her cheeks.

He didn’t know much about emotions.  But the one thing he had learned from Molly during this was that touch helped.  So, he reached across the table and took her hand.  Initially she gasped having not expected such a move from him.  Then she held it tighter, in case this never happened again.  “Mum, I know you did the best you could.  I’m sorry I was so much trouble.”  His genuine apology caused her to cry harder.

Pulling his chair around next to her, he wrapped his arms around her and let her cry on his shoulder.  It reminded him of his time with Eurus at Musgrave, and of Molly comforting him, and somehow he knew it was the right thing.  When after several minutes, she pulled away, she seemed almost embarrassed at her emotional outburst.  But he was quick to reassure her.  “Mum, I won’t even tell you how many times I have cried since this all began.  I think I get it now.  Somehow it makes it better.”  She rested her hand against his cheek seeing someone she has missed for over three decades…..her little boy.

Sliding the plate of ginger nuts towards them, she says, “You haven’t had any biscuits.  Molly will think we don’t like them.”  He raised his eyebrows at her letting her know he knew what she was up to.

“Well, we can’t have that.”  He said as he quickly snatched up a biscuit and took a big bite.

She laughed at him, being childish, after a lifetime of him being so serious.  “No, we can’t.”  She added, as she took one herself, a bit more ladylike and nibbled on it.

After a few more sips of her tea, she looked around then asked, “Where is Molly?” 

“I’m sure she deduced how emotional this conversation was going to be and knew we wouldn’t want an audience.” 

Now it was her turn to raise her eyebrows.  “So, she does deductions too?”

He chuckled.  “Just of the emotional variety.  She’s excellent in that area.”

“Well then you two should complement one another well then.” 

“We do…..always have.  It just took me a long time to figure out how much.”

“She seems lovely Sherlock.  So, are you two serious?”  She inquired.

He rolled his eyes as he’d hoped just once his mum wouldn’t go on about how he needed to find someone and get to the business of producing her grandchildren.  “Mum, we are but we’re not going to rush into anything.  This whole Eurus/Victor thing is going to take some time for me to get straight in my head.  Molly’s been wonderful, through all of it but this wouldn’t be the right time for us to change our relationship status.”

“But you want to…..someday.”  His mum prodded.

“Yes, we do.  We’re just taking it slow for now.  That seems sensible, doesn’t it?”  He seemed to be asking her opinion.  That, in itself, threw her as he never asked what she thought.

She patted his hand.  “Yes, Sherlock it does seem quite sensible.  I’m very happy for you.”

“Thanks Mum.”  He picked up a couple of ginger nuts and stood.  “I think I’ll take Molly a biscuit.”  He smiled as he went in search of her.  His mum smiled as he went, glad that her son was no longer alone.

o0oOOo0o


	21. Do You Think I Can Ever Get Back to Normal?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I have been a bit more sporadic in posting these last few chapters. Hopefully that has been resolved. A bit of writers block had me stalling on the final chapters. It looks like there is going to be twenty-five in all so we're almost there.  
> Thank you to everyone who kudos and especially for those who take the time to leave a message. They feed the author's soul. Thank you for continuing to read.

When he entered his bedroom, Molly was sitting up on the bed, a book in her hand.  He paused for a moment watching as the light from his childhood window played across her face.  It seemed so odd that she was here in a place from his past, and so right at the same time.

Smiling he crossed over to her and flopped onto the bed.  “Sherlock!” she screeched as she had been so absorbed in her book she had not seen him come in. He smiled at her, offering her a ginger nut.  She took it from him happily.

Before her second bite, she observed, “I take it things went well with your mum?”

He took a moment to inspect his biscuit before replying, “Well, there were tears but we cleared the air.  I’m beginning to wonder if I’m made to make up for all the tears I didn’t spill as a child.” 

“I don’t think it works like that but this is heady stuff, and you’ve avoided dealing with emotions for a long time.  It could be that you need to experience them as you would have then, as well as now.”

He let the silence stretch between them as he gave her words thought. 

“Do you think I can ever get back to normal?”  He asks taking another bite of his biscuit.

She takes a moment to answer, “Do I think you will ever be able to be the person you were before you learned all of this about your past?”  She clarifies.  He nods in acknowledgement.  “No.”  His face sours as he tosses the rest of the biscuit aside.

“Sherlock, you will never be able to be the same person you were before you learned your entire childhood was taken from you, after learning you had a sister and still do, after getting to know her, after learning your best friend had been killed by your sister, finding out you had a best friend.  This has altered you forever.  Personally, I find you more interesting this way, more layered, and more open.  Although I loved you before, I’m loving getting to know this version of you.  Of course, it could be because you are letting me be close to you now.”  She blushed at that admission.

He reached over taking her hand in his.  He wasn’t sure what he wanted to say.  He felt unsure and this was a place he was not familiar with.  She leaned in kissing him sweetly on his lips and he smiled.  Change was hard, that’s for sure, but maybe it was for the better.

o0oOOo0o

They stayed through supper time, Molly enjoying the stories his mum and dad told about him as a child.  Sherlock kept protesting but beneath his grousing he was pleased to hear there were some good times in his childhood.  What surprised him the most was all of the stories of he and Mycroft. 

He didn’t remember begging his parents to go to boarding school ‘like Mycroft’ but according to his mum, he had.  “Of course, he probably thought he would be going to the same school with Mykie”, his mum had said, “but he was so much older he had moved on to secondary school by then.  When Mycroft was home he would follow him around everywhere.  He idolized his big brother.” 

That threw him into buffering mode, searching his mind palace for those same memories.  Buried deep in the back of the closet of the room he had set aside for Mycroft he found them, just as his mum had said they were.  He couldn’t help but wonder what had caused things to change so drastically between them.  He thought about asking his mum but she was so happy telling her stories; he did not want to bring up more sadness.  ‘Besides, he reasoned, she probably doesn’t know.  This is a conversation I’m going to have to have with Mycroft.’  He shuddered to think how that might go.  Forcing himself back into the present he listened as she told Molly of the ‘first time’ he had blown up the shed with an experiment.

o0oOOo0o

His parents walk them to the car as the sun begins to set low in the sky.  “You be careful driving Martha’s car.  It’s going to get dark soon.”

He rolled his eyes, like he did as a teenager.  “Yes, mum.”  He said automatically.  Molly caught the look on his face and giggled.

“Thank you, Mrs. Holmes, for welcoming me into your home.” She said as she gave the older woman a hug.

“Now Molly I’ve told you to call me Violet, and you’re welcome anytime.  You can even bring this one along if you like.”  She playfully slapped Sherlock’s chest.  He smiled at how at ease his parents seemed with Molly, just like he was.

After they had pulled onto the country road from the driveway; he reached over taking her hand in his.  She smiled at him and he smiled back.  “Thank you for coming with me.  This is the first time I remember actually enjoying a trip to my parents.”

“Oh Sherlock, they’re wonderful.  You should visit more.”

“Yes, well, maybe I will, if you promise to come along.”  He beseeched her with his eyes.

“That could be arranged.”  She beamed back at him.  Every time he let her further into his life she felt like the luckiest girl on the planet.  For so long she had been on the outside looking in, now she was a part of nearly all aspects of his life.  It felt good….like a relationship should.  She couldn’t help but steal glances at him as he shifted down to accommodate the slow driver ahead. 

These past few weeks had been difficult, she couldn’t sugar coat them but they had also been weeks of incredible growth for Sherlock and for the two of them as a couple.  Remembering this morning and how close they had come to fully realizing their relationship she couldn’t wait to get back home.

o0oOOo0o

Their first stop was Baker Street to return the car to Mrs. Hudson.  After parking it into her spot at the rear of the building he pulled their bags from the boot.  “If you don’t mind I’d like to stop up and see how the repairs are coming.  I haven’t been over in a few days.”

“Of course.  I’m sure Mrs. Hudson isn’t going to let me go too quickly.  She’ll want to hear how our trip went.”  He rolled his eyes.  “Sherlock, be nice.  She did let you borrow her car.”  


As they come in the back entrance they hear the squeals of Rosie Watson.  “Oh, Rosie’s here!”  Molly exclaims, hurrying into the lounge.  He smiles at her joy at seeing the tiniest Watson as he continues lugging their bags into the building.

When he enters Mrs. Hudson’s lounge Molly is giving Rosie kisses on her cheeks and her tummy.  He can’t help but be enthralled with the look on Molly’s face.  Without his permission, the image of Molly one day holding their child appears in his thoughts.  When Molly looks over to him she wonders what has sent him off into ‘buffering mode’.

But he’s brought back when he hears, “Let’s go see Uncle Sherlock.  He needs some kisses too.”

He drops the bags at his feet so he can take Rosie in his arms giving her kisses and hugs as well.  He looks up as Mrs. Hudson comes back into the lounge with more tea and cups.  The smile she gives him reminds him how lucky he is to have all these wonderful people in his life.  Giving Rosie a kiss on her cheek, he leans over kissing Molly as well.  When he looks back to Mrs. Hudson she’s giving him two thumbs up!  He laughs then goes to her, giving her a kiss on the cheek too.

“Well, everyone seems to be in good spirits.  I gather the trip went well?”  She asked as she poured the tea.

“Yes, it was quite enjoyable.”  Sherlock said as he snagged a biscuit on his way to laying Rosie down on her playmat.  Flopping down next to her, he continued nibbling at his biscuit while building her a block tower.

Mrs. Hudson looked over to Molly to see if he was fibbing.  “It’s true, we had a good time.  Sherlock’s parents are just lovely.”

“Well, of course they are but this one isn’t usually very hospitable when they are around.”  She gestured towards Sherlock.  He made a face behind her back, which Molly chose to ignore.

“He was on his best behavior.”  She assured as she gave him a sweet look.

They all flinched as they heard a loud crash from above.  “What’s that?”  Molly exclaimed.  Sherlock was already on his feet looking for something he could use as a weapon.

“Oh, that’s just John.  He went up to check on the renovations.  He must have dropped something.”

Abandoning his need for a weapon, Sherlock turned in the directions of the front stairs.  “I’ll just go check that he didn’t break anything important.”

The ladies giggled at him as he left, even Rosie.

o0oOOo0o

Racing up the stairs, he stopped at the threshold to take in the changes since he had been there last.  With everything going on it had been at least a week since he had stopped in.  He was pleased to see that the plaster repairs were completed and that they had installed the new (old) wallpaper.  He had been lucky that he had found a place online that was able to duplicate the old paper as it was no longer available.

Peeking around the corner he saw John in the kitchen trying to put something back together.  “Hey there mate!”  He said loud enough for John to drop it again.

“Jesus, Sherlock!”  He scowled as he picked up what looked like one of the workman’s tools from the floor.  He’s not sure but he doubts there are supposed to be that many pieces to it.

“What do you have there, John?”  Sherlock prods with a smirk as he saunters into the kitchen.

“Never you mine, and you have no knowledge that I ever touch this.” He stared back as he gently placed it back on the counter.

“Understood.”  He stated succinctly as he turned to take in the changes since last week.  “It’s good that the mantle has been restored.  I know that was of particular concern to Mrs. Hudson.”

“Yes.”  He agreed as he came to stand next to him.  “And with the new windows it shouldn’t be so drafty in here.  That will be nice in the winter.”

“Almost worth jumping through the old ones.”  Sherlock teased.  Looking towards John he was greeted with a solemn stare.  “Ok, maybe not.”

“It might be a bit soon, yet.”

“Yeah, I gathered.”  With his hands behind his back he turns to John.  “John, I hope you know that I regret everything that happened at my sister’s hand.”

“Stop!  Just stop, Sherlock.  You are not responsible for your sister’s actions.  A sister that you didn’t even know existed.”

Sherlock was staring off straight ahead trying to keep his emotions in check.  It had been harder of late with so many emotions riding so close to the surface.  “Even so….”  He turned to face him.  “I would have lamented your loss as my partner, and my friend.”

John wasn’t sure how to respond so he just nodded.

They both stood looking over the new old place….perhaps remembering the past…..perhaps planning the future.

After several minutes of silence, John observed, “You know that wall just doesn’t look right without it’s smiley face and bullet holes.”

Turning his body slightly, Sherlock gives him an impish grin.  “My observation as well, Watson.”

The twinkle in their eyes didn’t bode well for Mrs. Hudson’s wall.

o0oOOo0o


	22. Yes, It’s a Good Place to Start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happier times await.........

Sherlock walks over to inspect under a tarp covering.  When he pulls it back, a grin spreads across his face.  Throwing the tarp onto the floor, it reveals his new leather chair.  He had spent a ridiculous number of hours online to find a duplicate of ‘his chair’.  Flopping into it, he rubs his hands back and forth along the arms feeling the grain of the leather against his palms.  Looking up he caught John shaking his head, trying to suppress a grin.  “What?”

“Oh nothing.”  He smirked as he rocked back and forth on his feet.  “You just look at home, is all.”

Looking around at the chaos that is still his flat he says, “Not yet, but …….soon.”  The idea of coming back to Baker Street excites him but the thought of leaving Molly’s fills him with a sense of dread.  He’s brought out of his musings by John’s exclamation, “Well, I’ll be damned!”

Looking in John’s direction he sees him staring at his new “old” chair, the tarp still clasped in his hand.  “Do you like it?  It’s not quite the same as the original but it was the closest I could find.”

John continued staring at ‘his chair’.  “Why?”

“Why what?” Sherlock didn’t understand the question.

“Why would you go to so much trouble……I don’t even live here anymore?”  He looks back to Sherlock incredulously.

“You always have a place here at Baker Street, John.  I hope you know that.”  John nodded, clearly affected by the gesture.  He dropped the tarp and sat in it.

Sherlock inquired, “How’s it feel?” 

John reached down to pull a newspaper from the mess on the floor, and settled into his reading position to peruse it.  He looked at home in his chair; Sherlock sported a sentimental smile.

Tossing the newspaper to the floor John exclaimed, “Yes, it will do.  It will do nicely.”  Sherlock nodded in agreement.

“So how was the trip to your parents?”  John ventured.  He never knew how such inquiries would be answered, often not at all.  But Sherlock was in good spirits after this trip and he was eager to share and gain John’s insights.

“I believe it was the most enjoyable trip I can ever remember making to Sussex.”

“Wow!  That’s high praise coming from you.”

“Indeed.”

He wasn’t sure if he should leave it at that or pry deeper.  “Were you able to get any answers to the questions that have been plaguing you?”

Sherlock’s expression turned serious but he didn’t block him out.  “Some.”  He hesitated not sure how much he wanted to say right now.  “I’ve gained some new memories from my childhood.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, ever since Molly and I went to Musgrave they have been revealing themselves a little bit here and there.  This weekend my mum showed me pictures and told stories from my childhood.  It’s starting to fill in the blanks.”

“How does that make you feel?” John asks.

A smirk plays on Sherlock’s lips, “Are you my therapist now John?”

He harrumphs, “No, you arse, just your friend.”  He raises his eyebrows daring him to answer the question.

  
Suddenly he feels the need to move so he jumps from his chair and paces to the window.  Looking out over London he can finally answer.  “John, I feel like my life has been rewritten.  Everything I thought to be true is being proven otherwise.  It’s very unsettling.”

“I’ve had a little experience with that myself, mate.”  John offers. 

Sherlock turns in his direction and he sees the pain etched across his face. “Of course, Mary.”  Deduces Sherlock.

“I realize it’s not on the same scale but ….” He falters.  “But finding out your wife’s entire life story was a lie is still quite a daunting thing to get past.”

“and did you?  Get past it?”  He asks while staring out the window.

“Mostly.”

“How?” His tone flat, as if this is a case he is trying to puzzle out, not his life.

“Love.”  When Sherlock looks back at him it’s obvious that John is lost in a memory, a happy one from what he can tell.

“Love.”  He says to himself.  “Yes, it’s a good place to start.”

o0oOOo0o

Sherlock continues to stare out into London, his London.  It’s been some time since he has been able to stand on this spot and drink her in.  He remembers what he said to his mum about London, it’s true, London has an energy, an energy that he thrives on. 

So focused on the sights and sounds of London, he misses John coming to stand next to him.  “So, can I ask?  How are things with you and Molly?”

Pulled from his thoughts he turns to look at John before turning back to the view.  “You can.  We’re ….good.  Molly has always supported me, in all the years I have known her.  I honestly don’t think I would be standing here right now if she had turned me away.”

“You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, mate.”  He states.

He gives him another glance before responding.  “No, I’m really not.  I had barely been clean a few weeks when all of this occurred.  I have no doubt I would have went looking for a fix as soon as she closed the door on me.”

“But she didn’t.”  John points out.

“No, she didn’t and for that I am eternally grateful.”  He continued to stare at the skyline remembering all the times she had been there for him in the past few weeks.

“John, emotions have never been my area.”  He hears a snort beside him.  “Yes, I know, an understatement.”  He hears John trying to suppress a chortle.  “Since Sherrinford, well, really to be honest, since the Aquarium….”  He hears John take in a breath.  “I have experienced more emotions than in my entire lifetime.  They’re overwhelming.  I don’t know what to do with them, most of the time, but Molly does.  She helps them make sense.”

“Is that all it is Sherlock?  She helps you with emotions you can’t possibly understand?” 

He turns giving John a longer look this time before facing the window again.  “I would think after Sherrinford you would know better than that, John.”

The silence remains between them until John finally speaks up, “I want you to be sure of your feelings for Molly.  She’s had feelings for you for a long time and I don’t think she would do well if you rejected her.”

Turning to face John, he stares him down with a quelling look.  “John, I have no intention of rejecting Molly.  I love her.  I’ve come to realize that I probably always have.  I’m grateful that for some unfathomable reason she loves me as well.  Now I’m sure I will cock things up along the way but hopefully not so much that she ever wants to leave me.”  He turns back to the window, the lights of London reflecting on his face.  John can see it now….he’s a man in love.

John observes his friend, divided in his emotions.  He’s happy for his friend….being in love is the most wonderful experience.  He tries to hide his own sorrow of having loved so deeply, and lost so quickly.

When he clasps his hand on Sherlock’s shoulder, the man turns his way.  “It looks good on you, mate.”  He gives him a small smile, knowing the conflicting emotions this would bring up for him, and nods.

Several minutes later, John announces that he should get Rosie off to bed.  They head downstairs so he can pack up Rosie and her endless assortment of accessories.  He can’t wait to hold Molly’s hand, and while Mrs. Hudson is fussing over Rosie, he sneaks in a kiss too.  She gives him a smile that calms his nerves, and warms his heart.

o0oOOo0o

Sherlock insists on carrying their bags from the cab, leaving her free to find her keys and open the door.  Walking in she takes in a deep breath….home.  It was a lovely trip but she’s glad to be home. 

Walking past her he takes the suitcases into the bedroom.  Hearing the bags crash to the floor she follows him into her (their) room.  She giggles at the sight of him sprawled out on the bed, the suitcases at his feet.

Leaning against the doorframe she smiles at how at ease she is with him sprawled across her bed.  Pushing herself off the frame she gathers her suitcase from where he dropped it, placing it on the bed.  As she unzips it and starts to pull things out he stirs.  “Hey, what are you doing?” 

“Just unpacking.  You must be tired, you wouldn’t let me share the driving.”  She turns tossing some items into the clothes hamper.

He stretches out, his hands behind his head, watching her work.  “I don’t mind it.  It’s not like I get all that many opportunities to drive …..especially Mrs. Hudson’s Aston Martin.”  He wiggled his eyebrows when she looked his way.

“Yes, you did seem to be enjoying yourself. I might have to start calling you ‘The Stig’.”  She giggled.  When she looked over at his confused expression, she laughed even harder.  “You have no idea who I’m talking about, do you?”

“Not a clue.  I’m guessing cultural reference?”

 “Yes.  Honestly, how can you call yourself British and have never watch ‘Top Gear’?”  She shakes her head as she continues to put her things away.

As she comes back to unpack more he grabs her wrist pulling her on top of him.  She giggles as he folds her within his arms pulling her close.  His eyes are bright and happy she notices.  It’s been a long time since she has seen that on his face.  Smiling back at him she allows her lips to brush against his, once, twice until he cannot take the teasing any longer.  Taking her lips in his he relishes in the taste of her.  He’s still in awe that this woman, this marvelous woman wants to be with him, that she loves him.  For most of his life he considered himself unlovable, and acted accordingly.  But Molly showed him a love that he wanted to live up to.  _As always that doubt lingers in his mind, I hope I’m up to the task._

As always, she knows what he needs.  Sliding her hands into his curls she anchors him to her.  A breath away from his lips she whispers, “I love you.”  

In one move he turns her onto her back on the bed, laying atop.   She’s shocked to see his eyes nearly black as he utters, “I love you too, so much.”  This time their kiss has far more passion in it as if he is trying to pour all of his love within her, to make up for all of the times when he let her think she was anything other than ‘his Molly’.

His mouth nibbles, tastes across her jaw as her nails scrape against his scalp.  Slowly his kisses trail down her throat, stopping to leave his mark on her pulse point.  Pulling back, he admires the purpling spot he has left on her skin.  ‘Mine.’ He thinks before needing to taste her lips again, breath her air, feel her tongue against his own. 

He’s never had these desires before, not in this way.  They’re overwhelming but he doesn’t want to stop feeling them, feeling her so close.  Cautiously he plays with her top button, asking her with his eyes if this is alright.  Her smile gives him her permission.  As he unbuttons each one he places a kiss at the skin revealed just at the opening, thanking her for allowing him the privilege.  With the last button undone, he peels back the edges of her blouse taking her in.

She feels exposed, as if he is deducing her and she is sure she will come up short.  She’s seen pictures of Irene Adler and met Janine.  His assessment of her bosom has rung in her ears for years now, ever since that awful Christmas party.  When he begins to trace her skin across the planes of her stomach she wants to run, to hide herself, sure he will be disappointed in what he finds.

As if sensing her need to be reassured, he gasps, “You are so beautiful!”  When she looks at him with wide, disbelieving eyes, he adds, “And anyone who has ever told you otherwise is a damn fool!”  His eyes crinkle in mirth knowing she is thinking of all of the times _he_ did just that.

Absently his fingers trail across her skin, skirting the edges of her bra as he speaks.  “Molly, I know I have said awful things to you over the years.”  She tries to stop him but he places his finger against her lips to allow him to finish.  She reluctantly nods.  “They weren’t ever true.  I wish you could know that.” 

Lightly his fingers trail through the valleys between her breasts making her breath hitch slightly.  “I knew how you felt about me.  I’ve known for a long time.”  His voice quiet and calm.  “I was trying to keep you at arm’s length.” His fingers never stopping. “The truth is I was scared….. _am_ scared.  I don’t deserve you.  I never have.  That is why I would never acknowledge what I felt for you, even to myself.”  Gently he traces the lace edging her bra, feeling her pulse quicken beneath her skin.  It amazes him how she responds to him but then he has always responded to her touch as well.

Taking his hand in hers, she brings it to her mouth kissing, tasting each of his digits, giving him what he needs, always what he needs.  His need for her has him crashing his lips against hers kissing, and kissing, and kissing until breath becomes absolutely a necessity.

Resting his forehead on hers they both pant for oxygen.  He’s becoming unbearably warm and realizes he’s still wearing his Belstaff.  Kneeling up, away from her he pulls it from his shoulders.

At that moment, his mobile rings.  His first instinct is to get it but stops himself letting the coat fall to the floor taking the phone with it.  “Shouldn’t you get that?”  She asks.

“No, I shouldn’t!”  He rebuffs as he brings his lips back to hers, tasting her, feeling her, never wanting to be parted from her. 

With little effort, she flips him on his back.  At first surprised, he then reminds himself what she does for a living.  He always underestimates Molly’s strength.  Sliding her palms across his chest she feels his breath as it becomes more rapid with each touch.  Feeling playful she sneaks her fingers to that secret place she knows will make him squirm.  She’s fairly sure she’s the only person in the world who knows that Sherlock is ticklish.  His reaction is immediate.  In his efforts to get away from her teasing fingers he kicks the traveling bag to the floor.  The loud thud distracts her enough that he is able to catch her wrists in his hands stopping her onslaught.  Holding on to her, their breath rapid, they stare at one another both wondering why the hell they waited this long to be together.

At that moment, his phone rings again.  Resting her bottom against his thighs she sighs.  “You really ought to get that.  It could be important.”

“Nothing could be more important than you and I right now.”  His eyes burn into hers hoping she believes him.

“Sherlock, I don’t want you to stop being you because of us.  I don’t want you to ever give up who you are.”

Pulling her to his chest, her head resting against his shirt, he strokes her back.  “Molly, I love that you don’t mind what I do.  That you support me, always, but your important, we’re important.”  Lifting her up so he can look in her eyes.  “Please don’t ever forget that.”  She nods silently then gently kisses him once more.

His mobile goes off again.  She pulls back to look at him.

“Really?”  He sighs exasperated.

“Sherlock, it could be John, something with Rosie.  We better get it.”  With that thought she scrambles off the bed and rifles through his pockets until she finds his mobile, handing it over to him.

Quickly typing in his pass code, he sees who has called.  “It’s Lestrade….all three times….and he’s left a voicemail.”  Tapping his voicemail, he listens to what the Detective Inspector had to say.  As he listens his eyes begin to sparkle and she can sense the excitement radiating off of him.

However, when he’s finished listening, he quietly places the phone on the nightstand, and pulls her close again.  She stops him with her hands at his chest.  “Sherlock, you have to go.”  She insisted.

“No……. I don’t.”  He retorted while trying to pull her close to him again.

“Sherlock Holmes!”  Her tone was sharp and it shocked him.  “You will not not help someone because of me.  What is the case?”

She had him now.  She knew it was near impossible for him to not talk about a case.  “There’s been a murder ……and a missing skater, a young girl about thirteen.”

“Oh my god, that poor girl.  Sherlock, you have to help, you just have to.”  She pleaded.  When he looked at her begging eyes he knew there was no longer a choice to be made.  He would do this because she asked.

His arms still around her, he asked, “Come with me?” 

She could see by his eyes that he was sincere but she shook her head anyways.  “I’m not what you need to help you solve this case.  I would be far too emotional about the young girl.  You need John.”

He nodded slightly.  “If you’re sure?” Asking for affirmation.

“I am.  I can watch Rosie if he needs me to.”  She offered.

Kissing her even harder, he growled, “I love you Molly Hooper!” Then jumped off the bed, picking up his Belstaff in one hand while dialing John with the other.  As he sauntered down the hall she heard bits of his excited conversation with John.

Buttoning her blouse, she got up searching the room for her shoes.  She just had time enough to run a brush through her hair before he bellowed, “Molly are you coming?  I have a taxi waiting.”

Rolling her eyes at his impatience she hurried down the hall to see him holding her coat open for her so she could slide right in.  Handing her her scarf, he opened the door and waited for her to pass.  Making sure the door was locked he grasped her hand and practically skipped with her down the stairs.

It didn’t take long for John to hand Rosie off to her.  She was quite familiar with her routine and where everything was located at John’s.  Sherlock did surprise her by rushing back in the door after he and John had left to give her one more kiss.  “I love you.”  He reminded her before he was off again.  She couldn’t help but smile at Rosie after that.

Throughout the night he sent her several texts.  “It’s an 8!” 

About a half hour later she’s surprised to read: “I love you.”  She’s sure her face gets all soppy after that.

Not ten minutes more pass before he asks: “Does this wound look like it could have been from a skating shoe?”

“Your Uncle Sherlock is very silly Rosie.”  She imparts to the toddler.  “But that is part of the reason I love him.  Rosie gurgles back at her as if in full agreement.

o0oOOo0o


	23. Afterall, You’re Going to Need your Strength

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who like to be forewarned.....smut awaits no longer.

It takes nearly two days before the young girl is found.  When he arrives at Bart’s at the end of her shift he is elated but she can tell also exhausted.  It doesn’t stop him from kissing her right in front of her interns.  She knows she should be cross with him about that but the satisfied grins they flash her keeps her from saying a word.

As they exited Bart’s he quickly flags down a taxi guiding her in ahead of him.  His hand surrounds hers and he can’t stop caressing it.  She can’t remember him ever being this tactile.  He didn’t try to pull away and his eyes never left hers. 

The weight of his stare stirs her, causing her cheeks to flush.  A shy smile crosses her lips before she averts her gaze following the movements of his hands with hers.  Resting her head on his shoulder, she watches his fingers trace hers as if they are the most fascinating thing in the world.  Leaning over he kisses her temple before resting his head against the top of hers.

Neither of them dare to break the silence that cocoons them in their own world, oblivious of the driver or the sounds of London all around them.  Soon enough they have arrived at Molly’s flat and they must leave the silent utopia they had created.

As soon as their feet cross the threshold he pulls her to him, his hands holding her as his mouth devours her.  When she feels (and hears) her back hit the wall she struggles to get some distance between them.

“Molly?”

He’s confused.  ‘Did he do something wrong?’

“Sherlock, I’ve missed you too but first you need to get a shower.  Honestly, what is that stench?”

Taking a step back, he sniffs himself and is reminded of the tall grasses and near swamp conditions they had to hike through to get to the girl’s hiding place.  “Um, we may have had to go to less than ideal locations to locate the girl.”

“Is she alright?”  Of course, she was instantly concerned about someone else’s well-being.

“She’s fine.  I assure you.”  He reached for her again but her hand on his arm stopped him.

“You need a shower and food.  So, go take a nice hot shower while I prepare you something.  Then you can tell me all about your case.”  Her eyes twinkle at him.  She knows what he’s like when he comes off a case, particularly a challenging one.

He pouts a little.  “But Molly I was hoping we could pick up where we left off when we were interrupted by Lestrade’s call.”

Using her most sultry voice, she purrs, “Oh, we will but you Mr. Sherlock Holmes are going to need your strength.”  Her eyebrows wiggle at him.  When his cheeks turn three shades of red she bursts out into giggles.

Granting him a quick kiss she heads to the kitchen to warm up some leftover pasta.  It takes him a full minute to remember that he is supposed to be taking a shower.  Quickly tossing off his Belstaff and scarf he heads to the bathroom, continuing to shed clothes as he does.  Molly’s not sure if he was doing it to wind her up or him just being his slobby self.  She smiles to herself choosing to think of it as her own personal strip tease.

By the time he drops into the kitchen chair, hair still dripping, and his blue dressing gown clinging to his wet skin the pasta is ready.  Along with tea, and a few leftover scones from her visit with Mrs. Hudson yesterday it is a meal fit for a consulting detective.

“Thank you, Molly.”  He manages after he has already shoveled in at least three bites.

“Sherlock, slow down.”  She admonishes.  “You really should try to eat something while you’re working.”  He levels her a look so she adds.  “Yes, I know it slows you down but look at you – your ravenous.  What good is a consulting detective that starves himself to death?”

Taking a deep breath, he swallows and takes a drink of his tea.  “You worry?”

“Of course!”

His hand reaches across the table to take hers.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to worry you.  How about I put a few protein bars in my coat pocket?  Would that ease your mind?”

“Yes, it would.  Thank you.  How were you able to find her?”

This was always the part they both loved so much.  Sherlock got to preen his skills of observation and deduction and she got to bask in his intelligence.  By the time he had gotten to the part where he and John found the frightened teen in an old hunting shed she had somehow moved to his lap.  Neither of them were conscious of the movement but also neither were they in anyway opposed.

Her fingers slide between his wet curls bringing him closer until their lips meet and never want to part.  He can’t stop his hands from roaming as he tastes her.  Reaching beneath her jumper and shirt he finally finds what he had been seeking.  The feeling of her skin against the pads of his fingers delight and excite him.  With all that he’s been through who would have thought such a simple act such as sliding his digits across the plane of her stomach would send chills through him.  He could feel the excitement stirring him; his pants feeling snugger.

They parted momentarily.  As he was about to suggest the bedroom, or like a Neanderthal carry her to it; her hand slid beneath the fabric of his dressing gown.  Slowly she pulled it apart as her hands mapped the topography of his chest.  He found it hard to breathe at such a simple gesture and although he should be, he realized he wasn’t afraid of love, not her love, never her love.  He dove back in to plunder her mouth while rising from his chair.  Her legs wrapped around his middle as he stumbled his way in the direction of the bedroom.

As soon as they fell to the bed though she pulled away.  At first concerned but then the look she gave him let him know that she wanted this as much as he.  “I want this to be special, Sherlock.”  She pressed her lips against his then continued.  “I’ve thought of this, of us, for a very long time.  I need it to be special.”

He nodded.  “Of course.”

Grinning at his consent she slid off the bed.  “Then let me change into something more ….suitable, and you can light some candles.”  She gave him a wink then disappeared into the washroom.  Looking around he noticed the votive candles scattered around.  Finding the candle lighter, he lit each one, shutting off the other lights.  Laying back against the bed pillows he allowed himself to be mesmerized by the flicker of candle light as he was often mesmerized by his Molly.

Quickly she had changed into the crème colored lingerie that she had chosen for this occasion.  She knew it would come, one day.  He had let her know weeks ago that he was ready or at least he thought he was.  She’s glad they waited, waited until they were both ready.

Inspecting herself in the mirror she tousled her hair and lightly spritzed on some perfume before giving herself a gleeful smile.  The man she loved, for so long, and who had declared his feelings for her as well were finally, _finally_ going to be together.  With her heart bursting with happiness she sauntered back into the bedroom hoping for a gasp or a sigh but none came. 

When she came closer she realized he was sound asleep.  Still smiling, she chuckled to herself.  This was so them.  Logically she understood he had been awake for two straight days but romantically she wished he hadn’t.  One day they would get the timing right. 

She pulled a duvet from the chest under the window and covered him.  After extinguishing the candles, she draped her dressing gown over the chair before sliding into bed beside him.  Curling up against his chest she whispered, “I love you.”  Unconsciously, he turned slightly placing his arms around her and mumbled, “love you” before falling into a deep sleep.

o0oOOo0o

He woke to the sweet smell of Molly’s hair in his nostrils.  Nuzzling closer to her, his hands unconsciously began to wander.  It was when they began idly stroking her breast through her silky garment that she began to stir. 

She woke with the feel of him all around her, stoking her fire with his gentle touches.  Instinctively she wiggled closer to him feeling the fullness of his erection against her backside.  Without thought, she turned, searching for his mouth as hers greedily found his lips.  Pushing him onto his back, she slid on top of him, feeling him against her, knowing how much she wanted to feel him inside her.

Cautiously she stopped as if to listen and to look around the room.  “Molly?  What’s wrong?”

“Just checking.  No, no parents down the stairwell.”  He smirked at her.  “No ringing phones.”  At that he turned to reach both their phones putting them on do not disturb but not before sending a quick text to Stamford.  “Did you just call me off work?”

“I may have.  Problem?” 

“Not in the least.”  He beamed back at her, his arms surrounding her, beckoning her to come closer.  Sliding her arms up his chest she kissed him with a renewed vigor of one who had waited far too long for this day to come.

“Sherlock”, she whispered as his kisses followed the line of her jaw. 

As his kisses came closer to her lips he breathed, “I love you”. 

A smile took over her face as she responded, “I know.”  His kisses were intoxicating as her hands slipped beneath his dressing gown, sliding across his skin, feeling his muscles across his back. 

His lips strayed from hers as he tasted her skin inching his way towards her shoulders.  As he gave her pecks and nips at that place where her neck met her shoulders a deep sigh escaped her.  Her eyes closed as she relished in the feel of him against her, bringing her back to life with the feel of his lips on her skin.  These were feelings she’d only ever thought could be fulfilled by her fantasies but here he was in her bed…wanting her.  A deep moan emanated from within her startling both of them but when she looked into his eyes she saw his deep desire for her.  Her want for him didn’t turn him away but brought him closer.

Pulling her tightly against him he rolled them so she was beneath him.  Pushing up on one arm his eyes fell over her taking in her flushed skin, her rapid pulse, and her want for him.  He’d never had anyone desire him like this, not just for sex, but for all of him.  His fingers grazed her cheek as he took her in.  “You are so beautiful”, Escaped from his hoarse lips before he had the chance to catch it.  She smiled back at him and in that moment, he was glad he had not stopped it, making note to compliment her more.

His hand caught against the string that held up her lingerie.  It was a flimsy thing barely covering her but accentuating all of her curves for him to see.  He can see why she chose it but at this moment it was covering her real beauty and for that he needed her naked.  Slowly he drew the strap from her shoulder, following it with his eyes as he brought it down her arm.  He then slid the other one off.  Now he could ease the gown below her breasts and relish in the sight of them.

He has seen them before, he has tasted them before but this is different.  She is giving herself to him and he feels the need to let her know how much he is in awe of that. With a single digit, he explores her bare flesh, slowly making his way to the valley between her breasts.  His pulse soars as he feels her heart pounding beneath her skin.  His eyes meet hers and seeing the coy smile she gives him he can’t stop himself from crushing his mouth to hers taking her breath to be his.

As they gasp for breath his mouth makes its way down her throat to that valley once again.  With his eyes on her he takes her nipple in his mouth, sliding it around his tongue, delighting in the feel of it.  Her pleasure in this is written on her face so he does it again with the other one.  Back and forth he takes her breast in his mouth pleasuring her with the pressure of his lips and the flick of his tongue.  Her body writhing below him compels him to never want to stop until she begs, “Sherlock.”  He stops in her valley, his nose pressed to her flesh, taking in her scent, her heartbeat, and the feel of her hands in his curls.

He's always known she had a thing for his hair, the way she looked at it longingly from across the lab.  Through their time together he has found that he has a thing for her having a thing for his hair.  In truth, her hands in his curls, sliding, twisting, caressing them has become something he cannot live without.  It has brought him comfort when the world, his family, his mind was too much for him to handle.  Right now, it lets him know that he is hers as much as she is his.  He never thought he ever wanted to be this vulnerable to another person but now he finds he craves it.  Not just the physical acts but the intimacy.  This should scare him but with Molly he has been laid bare, she has seen the worst of him, now he hopes to share with her the best.

Leaving a gentle kiss between her breast, he pulls back so that he can continue to slide the silk garment down her body.  When her belly button is exposed he feels the need to trace it with the tip of his tongue before leaving kisses across her taunt stomach.

Crawling backwards on the bed, he continues to reveal her body to himself like a present he is unwrapping.  It does feel like Christmas and his birthday all rolled in one….and yet, this feels like nothing he has ever experienced before.  As the silk slides past her lady bits, he closes his eyes and breathes deep.  Her scent is all around him.  As he tugs the fabric slowly down her thigh, he finds he’s at the end of the bed.  Standing at the foot of the bed, he gently slides the fabric past her knees, then her ankles, then over her painted toes.  Holding the scrap of fabric in his hands, he takes in the sight of her laid before him.  She is so beautiful.  ‘How did he ever say a disparaging word against such beauty?’

His eyes met hers and he could see her doubt, see that she didn’t think she was the beauty he knew her to be.  ‘My fault.’ He admonished himself and knew that he needed to do whatever it took to push those thoughts from her mind.  Realizing he still held her gown, he tossed it behind him.  His eyes never left hers as he carelessly let his dressing gown fall from his shoulders to the floor.  Without hesitation, he slid his pants off, leaving him as bare as she was.

She admired his body; she always had but this was the first time that she had been permitted to gaze upon it so freely.  She has seen glimpses over the years when he has stayed at her flat, and that time after he fell when she had to prepare him to be officially identified by Mycroft.  But this wasn’t a dead man before her as her eyes took in his strong form, and his fully erect penis.  Trying to contain her blush that that was for her, she reached out to him, inviting him back to their bed.

His smile widened at her invitation as his fingers entwined with hers, feeling her skin against his as if it had been an age instead of only moments. On his knees, he made his way up the bed.  His hand stayed clasped in hers, as his other skimmed her skin from her ankle to her hip.  He was just so in awe of her, that she loved him, and that they could be this with one another but looking into her eyes he could see that she was not comfortable with his admiration.  Sliding his hand up further, he skimmed her curves, past her breasts, up her neck, to her lips. 

His digits traced the curve of her mouth as his eyes bore into her hoping she saw his sincerity.  Bringing the hand he still clasped within his own to his lips, he caressed each digit with kisses. When he felt her try to tug her hand away, he held it firm and uttered, “You are so beautiful.  Don’t ever forget that.  Always.”  She nodded slightly.  ‘Ah, a beginning.’ He thought to himself. 

Leaning into her, this kiss brokered a promise.  At least he hoped that it said, “I love you and that I want to spend the rest of my days showing you how much.”

As much as he wanted to continue to explore her body, his need for her was too great.  His kisses became rhythmic as his lower body ground against hers.  When he gave her moments for breath, he heard her pleas, “Sherlock, _please_.”

Stopping to get his bearings he rested his forehead against hers.  It gave her just enough time to say, “Sherlock, I need you.”  When he looked into her eyes as if to protest she responded.  “There will be time for that later.”  She knew.  Of course, she did.  She was the one person, in all the world, who could deduct him. 

“I love you.”  He gasped as he felt her small hands surround him, squeeze him, and declare him hers.

“I love you.” She panted as she felt him slide through her folds and nudge against her entrance.

Feather kisses on her nose, eyelids, cheeks were followed by her name on his breath, “Molly” then they were one.  He slid inside her and his world exploded inside of his mind.  He couldn’t move with the overwhelming sensations taking over his mind.  It was the slide of her hands from his buttocks, along his spine that brought him back to this moment.

Slowly they began to rock together as their mouths continued their intimate dance.  Somehow biology overtook his overwhelmed mind and he found a rhythm that brought her pleasure as well as himself.  He barely registered the scrapes across his back from her nails but they pushed him on, increasing his pace.  When he felt her flutter around him, clenching his cock within her, he was almost surprised except for the taunt string she had become only moments before.  Even with her nearly boneless she urged him on until his pace was relentless, pounding into her without abandon.  He then saw a different side of Molly, wanton sex kitten.  With her nails scrapping his scalp, and her fingers twisting his curls she arched her back pushing her breasts towards him.  His lips clamped around her nipples sucking hard.  She practically levitated off the bed pushing herself into him that much harder.

He could feel his release rising, the tightening in his balls letting him know it was imminent.  He slid his hand between them, finding her clit with his thumb and pressing down hard.  Her response was immediate with her orgasm setting off his own.  He didn’t stop while she milked him until he could not any further, collapsing a top her.

It took several minutes for him to come back to himself, mostly when he felt her scooting out from under him.  Reaching up, he clumsily found her cheek, “Hey, where are you going”

A giggle was the first response he heard, then “Sorry, but you’re a little heavy.”  He had been so caught up in himself he hadn’t thought of that. 

Rapidly he slid to her side, pulling her close in his arms.  “Sorry.  Did I hurt you?” 

She laughed when she saw the concern on his face and gently kissed him.  “No, of course not.”  She pulled him closer, relishing his warm skin against her own.  It was her turn to lose herself in the moment, unable to believe that this was really happening.  ‘Are we really together?’ Her mind asked.

His gentle kiss broke her from her musings but his words startled her when he said, “Yes, we are…together, I mean.  If that is what you want, of course?”

Panic streaked across her face, “Did I say that out loud”

He chuckled, “No, but I seem to be able to read your thoughts.”  He playfully kissed her nose.  “Molly, I love you.  In case I haven’t been clear these past weeks, I want you in my life, all of my life, always.”  When he saw tears forming at the edge of her eyes, he started to panic.  “Molly?”  Had he been wrong about what she felt?

She pulled him tighter still to her, her hands sliding up his back until they caught into his curls.  Her mouth next to his ear, she whispered, “I seem to be able to read your thoughts as well.  It must be because I love you so much.  I am honored that you want to share your life with me and I have always been yours.”

 

o0oOOo0o

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (and yes, the beginning of this chapter intentionally mirrored the chapter This Definitely Isn’t the Right Place.)


	24. Brother Mine

Since his trip to his parents he has been thinking about Mycroft.  The picture of their relationship when they were young seems so different to the one they now tolerate.  Having the shared experience of Sherrinford has helped him to see Mycroft’s side of things more easily but they are still miles away from ‘the little boy who idolized his big brother’ as his mum described him.  He decides it’s time to find out why.

He contacts Anthea and makes arrangements for Mycroft to be spending the evening at home.  Armed with a bottle of Mycroft’s favorite brandy he shows up on his doorstep.  Mycroft seems hesitant when he opens the door to Sherlock standing there.  He can’t say he blames him as most of their ‘conversations’ of late have been confrontational but he gestures for him to come in.

Following his brother to his study he can’t help but wonder, not for the first time, why his brother lives in such a huge and ostentatious place.  He doesn’t entertain so there is no one to impress.  Why would he need such a large estate?  He files that away in his mind palace under ‘questions for Mycroft’.

Upon entering the study, Mycroft sits in his leather club chair by the fireplace, Sherlock heads to the bar for glasses.  He returns pouring them each generous glassfuls handing one to Mycroft, while putting the bottle on the mahogany side table next to him.  Mycroft picks up the bottle and reads the label.  He raises an eyebrow at his brother wondering why he is showing up at his place with £200 bottles of brandy.

Looking Sherlock over he can see the tension in his eyes, the nervousness in the tapping of his fingers against the chair.  It’s also obvious that he’s cried recently.  He can’t help but wonder what has brought him to his doorstep.  But as the Holmes brothers can never just ask, he goads instead.  “Has Doctor Hooper finally tired of you taking over her flat?”  His voice droll and insincere.

Sherlock smirks back at him, knowing his deduction could not be farther from the truth.  “No, Molly and I have been getting along beautifully in our co-habitation.”

“Really?  I would have thought she would have tired of you by now.”  He picks off a piece of lint from his trousers.

“Molly has been very supportive of the, eh, revelations from my (our) past.  She has helped me make sense of them.”

“Has she?”  He sounds suspicious and Sherlock can’t understand why.

“Mycroft, why are you being difficult?  You know how Molly and I feel about each other, and you know how much she has done for me since Sherrinford.  You, yourself, asked her to accompany me to Musgrave.  What is this really about?”

He sips at his brandy, as he looks faraway.  “Brother mine, I know you want this …thing with Doctor Hooper to work out but is it wise…..considering our family history?”

Sherlock clunks his glass on the side table, gripping the arms of the chair trying to rein in his anger.  “Mycroft, I know you spout this ‘caring is not an advantage’ nonsense but you’re wrong.  Caring for Molly and having Molly care for me has kept me sane through this ordeal.  Without her I’m sure I would have gone looking for a fix as soon as the helicopter landed.  It’s most probable that you would have had to come to the family plot to have this conversation by now.” 

Sherlock then jumps up pacing the length of the study trying to quell his anger at his brother.  This is not why he came here.  He came here for answers.  Stealing a look towards his brother he sees a man trying so hard to remain in control….but in control of what?

He flops back into his chair staring his brother down while taking a deep drink of brandy.  After several minutes Mycroft finally speaks, “Brother mine, I do not wish to place a pall over your dalliance with Doctor Hooper …..”

“It is far from a dalliance, Mycroft, as you well know.  We have known each other for nearly a decade.  I have trusted her with confidences and secrets that I have shared with no one, except perhaps my brother.  Oh, is that it?  Are you jealous, brother mine?”

“Don’t be absurd!”  He barks back.

“Well, if not that, then what?  What do you have against Molly?”

“I don’t have anything against her.  She is a highly skilled pathologist, and her loyalty to you has been unblemished.”

“Then, what?”

“But what happens when you get bored of this life Sherlock?”  He leans forward, the brandy cupped in his left hand.  “What will become of her then?  Of you?”  He falls back against his chair.

“Do you think I care so little for her that I would bore of her?  She is an endlessly fascinating woman.”  

“Women are not an area you know much about, brother mine.  As you would say ‘they are not your area’.”

“Nor yours!”  He volleys back.

“Touché!”  He loses himself in the amber of the liquid as he swishes it around in the glass. 

“Where it is true my experience with women has been limited despite my age; my experience with Molly isn’t.  I have studied her for nearly a decade.  We have grown in friendship and she is the one person I know I can count on and trust no matter my need.  I’ve come to realize that that is love.”  Picking up his brandy again he thought of his father’s words when he asked him how he knew if she was the one.  He knew….he’s known from the day they met.

Mycroft remained silent considering his words carefully.  “Are you happy Sherlock?”

The question throws him, not something he ever expected to hear from him.  But without delay he answers, “Yes, yes I am.”  Mycroft just nods, continuing to take sips of his brandy.

“Are you?”  Mycroft’s eyes widen unsure how much more discussion about feelings he can take.

“I’m content.”  His voice low, measured.

“I thought I was content once…..  It’s funny how having friends can change that perspective.”

Mycroft rolled his eyes at him while getting up to look out the window.  Sherlock observed his reflection in the window.  He seemed very far away in his thoughts.

When Sherlock finally spoke it jarred him, “What happened between us, Mycroft?”

“What?”

“Mummy told me stories from when I was young.  She said we were inseparable after we moved to Sussex.  I was sure she was being fanciful in her recollections but when I dug into my mind palace I found some of those memories.  What changed?”

Mycroft placed his glass on the table next to his chair.  He gripped the back tightly till his knuckles turned white.  “Are you sure you want to know, brother mine?”

A lump formed in his throat.  ‘What could give his brother pause considering all that they had already endured?’  Righting himself in the chair he stared him down, “Yes”.

“Very well.”  Taking a deep breath, he began.  “A phone call.  A call late one night alerting me that my brother was somewhere he very much shouldn’t have been.  I wrote down the address then headed off immediately.  I was sure the informant had to be mistaken.  I arrived in a dingy part of town, the kind only those choosing a disparaging life would be in.  The house had been white with green trim once, I could tell with what was left of its peeling paint.  I’d pulled my revolver before I entered the premises.  I hadn’t been out of field work that long at that point so it was still second nature.  The house reeked of urine and feces and I dared not guess what else.  In the lounge, there were two women in the midst of copulation, they didn’t even notice I was there.  I turned from them and went up the stairs.  As I went higher the stench only intensified.  The first room I entered there was a young man lying in his own filth on a mattress.  I came closer in fear that it was you.”  At that his eyes intensely met Sherlock’s.  “I checked his pulse, it was thready, barely there.  I found out later he didn’t make it through the night.  It was the second room that I found you lying on the bare mattress.  I almost didn’t recognize you.  You were so thin, your veins shown blue through your skin.  Your hair was matted and unkempt.  By the stench of you I was sure you hadn’t bathed in quite some time.  I shook you awake.  Your eyes glossy, barely slits didn’t seem to even recognize me.  At first, I was just so grateful that you were still alive but then I was angry, angry at you for what you had done to yourself, and angry at myself for letting you.  I wept that day for the little boy I had let down and vowed that that would never happen again.  I was your big brother, your protector.  I had to protect you.”

Mycroft turned and walked toward the window once more.  He wasn’t used to all these emotions and he certainly didn’t want them on display.

Sherlock had listened as his brother told of the time he had found him in some flop house.  He hadn’t remembered it, not really.  He only remembered waking up in a rehab facility.  He remembered raging at Mycroft, his parents, the doctors, anyone who came near him.   He didn’t want to be there, he didn’t want to feel, and when the withdrawal started he _really_ didn’t want to feel that.  He never once thought about how Mycroft or his parents felt…not once.  ‘God, I’m such an arrogant prick!’

“Yes, you are.”  When he looked up and saw Mycroft looking at him once more, he realized he must have said that aloud.  Turning back to the view out his window he added.  “I had that place burnt to the ground while you were in hospital.  Somehow I thought it would keep you from doing it again.”  He sighed heavily.

It hadn’t kept him from doing it again.  He fought them at every turn during the six months he spent in hospital.  He refused to talk in therapy, he refused their visits and as soon as he got out he went looking for a fix.  It took eight months for Mycroft to track him down that time.  By that point he had been befriended by Mrs. Hudson and he was starting to question whether this was really what he wanted to be doing with his life.  That time when Mycroft found him he went more willingly but that isn’t to say that he embraced the process.  It was during that stint in rehab that Mycroft was able to extract the promise from him that if he ever again ‘indulged’ that he would make a list.  Apparently, they had almost lost him that time.  


He looked over at his brother who was trying so desperately not to show any emotions as he focused on some distant point far past the window.  He recognized that as something he did as well.  Standing at his window at Baker Street looking out over London seeing it but not seeing it at all.  ‘Had he learned that trick from his brother?’

Hearing a heavy sigh from Mycroft he looked up as he was pulling on his cuffs, straightening his vest, putting his armour back on.  “Well, I think I shall retire if you don’t mind.”  He turned to leave but was stopped by Sherlock’s words.

“Mycroft …..I’m sorry.”  He didn’t turn around; not sure he would be able to keep his mask on.  “I’ve been a right prick to you, haven’t I?”

Now it was Sherlock’s turn to stride over to a window so he could speak without having to face him.  “I’ve never really given any thought to how this affected you, mummy, daddy, anyone.  I was always so caught up in my own mind that I couldn’t think how it hurt you or them.  I just wanted my mind to settle, to quiet.  Even with all the advanced university courses, everything seemed too easy, too mundane.  My mind raced, it never stopped.”

Quietly Mycroft admitted, “I know” turning slightly to peer at him.  When Sherlock looked his way he added, “Why do you think I’m involved in the government dealings of at least half the nations on the planet?”

“So you know?  You understand?”

“I understand what it is like to have a mind that is so much faster than those around you.  What I don’t understand is why you would want to destroy it with drugs.”  Sherlock’s face dropped to take in his shoes feeling the disappointment of his big brother.  “I thought when you found The Work, that you would be alright but the drugs keep pulling you back in.”

“Those were for the Magnusson case and then to help John!”

“Do you really believe that Sherlock?  Because I think they were just convenient excuses.”

He wasn’t ready to admit that yet to Mycroft but during his last bout of withdrawal he had come to that conclusion himself.  He knew from both Molly’s assessment as well as his own that his body couldn’t take much more.  He also knew, without a doubt, that he would lose Molly if he ever ‘indulged’ again.  What he was able to say was, “I don’t think that is something you will ever have to worry about happening again.”  He vowed with a seriousness that gave Mycroft hope but he was no fool.

“I don’t …..I don’t believe you.”  He croaked.

The display of emotion stuck in Sherlock’s throat knowing with absolute certainty that he had been the one to alter their relationship by letting him down again and again.  It was no wonder his surveillance of him was so invasive.  There was no trust….Sherlock had broken it all.

He knew it was up to him to rebuild it.  “I know you don’t and that is my fault.  I will just need to prove it to you then, as I will prove it to Molly.”  His eyes bore into his brother’s pleading with him to take him at his word.

The emotions were getting too thick, both of the Holmes brothers were practically choking on them.  But Mycroft did add one more thing, “I can see that Dr. Hooper has been a good influence on you.  Maybe there is something to be said for ‘sentiment’.”

Yes, it’s a good place to start.

o0oOOo0o

Mycroft agreed to stay for another brandy which turned into three.  When Sherlock left him, he was passed out in the leather chair in his study, slightly propped up.  He took a picture and texted it to Anthea that he was leaving and that her boss was out for the night.  He laughed when she thanked him for the picture. 

He hurried back to Molly’s anxious to slide into bed next to her.  He knew he had her love and that he loved her more than anything.  As he fell asleep with her in his arms, he knew that he would never take this life with her for granted or jeopardize it with drugs.  He could only hope that one-day Mycroft may be able to trust him again.

 

o0oOOo0o


	25. Final Chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all of you who have read, hit the kudo button, and especially took the time to leave a comment. This has been a cathartic piece for me, as I hope it has been for you.  
> Over 2,357 commas were maimed in the execution of this story! Mrs. Kelly would be ever so proud!

It had taken nearly eight weeks for the reconstruction of 221B to be completed.  Mrs. Hudson was thrilled that Sherlock would be moving back in.  It had been too quiet without him there.  John and her had convinced Sherlock to have a small get together to commemorate the moment.  “At least while it’s still clean and bullet-hole free.”  Mrs. Hudson joked.  Sherlock rolled his eyes but agreed to the small gathering.

The next day while Mrs. Hudson was at the grocer John showed up with a can of yellow spray paint and his revolver.  He and Sherlock had fun putting the smiley face back where it belonged. 

Just as Sherlock was stabbing his latest unknown correspondence into the new mantelpiece Mrs. Hudson came in carrying tea.  Dropping it with a loud crash onto the coffee table she gave them both an angry, exasperated look.  Immediately she turned and left in a huff, muttering as she went.  They both looked at one another relived she hadn’t noticed the bullet holes yet.

They each made their tea then sat in their usual chairs as if no time and major life upheavals had come to past.  After several minutes, John asked, “So will you be glad to be back at Baker Street?”

Sherlock paused with a quizzical look on his face, “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

John took a moment to look around at the flat that had once been his home, in which he and Sherlock had formed a partnership that had transformed both of their lives.  “We have had some good times here, haven’t we?”  John mused.

Smirking over his tea cup, “Yes we have John.  But please tell me this isn’t going to be a trip down memory lane.”  He rolled his eyes at even the thought of it.

“No, not really.  It’s just that so much of our lives have changed since the first time you brought me here.”  He turned to give him a serious look.  “But not all of it good.”  Sherlock pauses wondering where this conversation is going.  “I wonder if it wouldn’t be better to start somewhere fresh, somewhere without all the memories.”

Sherlock places his teacup on his side table then brings his hands under his chin in his ‘thinking pose’ as John calls it.  In less time than John was expecting Sherlock begins to answer.  “I can understand why you are saying this.  There have been some very difficult times here for both of us here.”  His mind races to the time that American dared lay a hand on Mrs. Hudson, or when an enemy had breached his security: Moriarity, Magnussen, or Mycroft.  He may not still consider his brother as his enemy but for much of his life he did, rebelling against his control.  His heart constricted when he thinks about that awful Christmas and his awful, hurtful words to a lovely woman who never deserved them or him.  Looking over at John he remembers that night right in these chairs when his friend had to learn the awful truths about the woman _he_ loved.  Not to mention that day eight weeks ago when he thought he, his brother, and his best friend were all going to die courtesy of his sister.  No Baker Street did not always provide them with happy times.

“But there have been wonderful times as well, John.”  John thinks of all the times he and Mary had here both with and without Sherlock.  He remembers the awe of seeing Sherlock’s mind work up close, to watch his process, and still be amazed at the deductions he came up with.  When he looks over at John he remembers how John made him feel human when he never thought that was possible, how Mrs. Hudson made him feel cared for, and how Molly made him feel loved.  Molly….all the times he spent here with her doing experiments, talking, laughing, just being together.  No, those memories were too precious to lose.

“Someone very wise once told me that we can’t let the memory of bad things taint the memories of our good things.”  He looks around at his flat nearly new but yet so much the same.  “We just need to fill the place with new good memories to diminish the bad.”

John looks at him as if he has just grown an extra head.  “Ok, there is no way you just spouted psychological mumbo jumbo to me.”

A broad grin stretches across his face, “What can I say John?  I’m a changed man!”

“No, you’re an arse!  But you have a wonderful woman who is kind, generous, and has apparently been a profound influence on you.  It looks good on you mate.”

“Thanks John.”  His jaw drops that Sherlock actually thanked him. 

“Wow, I think I like this Sherlock being in love.”

He throws his head back in laughter.  “Don’t get too used to it John.  I’m sure I’ll open my mouth and arse it up soon enough.”

John levels him with a look.  “You don’t mean with Molly?”

“What?”  He looks at him like he’s daft.  “No, of course not.  I just meant it’s likely that I will say something that will hurt someone’s feelings.  It’s only inevitable.”

John nods as if in agreement.  “So, you and Molly are good?”

“Yes, quite good.”  He leans over to pick up his tea again

“Aren’t you going to miss living with her at her flat?”  He snags a biscuit from the plate.

“Yes, I will.  These past eight weeks have been transforming.  Certainly not all of it was blissful for her or me but I think we are in a good place now.”

“What are your plans?”

“For Molly?  What are you her father now?”

He points a finger at him.  “See there….arse!”

He chuckles at his friend.  “I have very specific plans for Molly but I don’t think you or her would like for me to divulge them.”

John’s cheeks turn crimson.  “Rightly so.”  He chokes out.

o0oOOo0o

They are saved from further embarrassment by the sound of Rosie waking from her nap.  Sherlock jumps up first, heading back to his room to retrieve her.  After an expertly changed nappie, if he does say so himself, he carries her back to the sitting room.  John has prepared her lunch and is waiting for them in the kitchen.

“There’s your daddy!”  Sherlock announces to Rosie, who had been nuzzling into his chest.  Her face lights up and she reaches for him.  He takes a moment to watch him buckle her into her booster seat talking the whole time about how much she’s going to enjoy the strained carrots and pureed lamb.  Turning quickly so she doesn’t see him wrinkle his face in disgust, he makes himself another coffee as well as one for John. 

John seems surprised when he places his cup on the table, near his elbow but he wisely says nothing.  He puts his on the table next to his chair before flopping into it.  He’s learned, the hard way, not to do that with hot coffee in his hand.

From his seat, he can watch Rosie and John interacting with the dance they do each time he tries to feed her.  There was a time when he would have found all of this tedious and dull but now he relishes each new aspect of her personality that she reveals, and every milestone is one he wants to celebrate along with her father and Molly.

o0oOOo0o

Molly…. His thoughts never stray far from her these days.  He should be embarrassed by this school boy fixation on her but he’s too happy to care.  Last night was their first night apart.  He wonders if that is why his yearning for her is so strong.  He had been thrilled that Baker Street was finally completed and ready for him to move back in. 

She had insisted that he needed to spend his first night back there…alone.  When pressed, she didn’t elaborate but she felt it was something he needed to do for himself.  So, he went there, hanging his coat near the door as he always did before taking in his surroundings.  They had been able to replicate much of it, but of course not all.  As he made his way around the flat, he noted what was from the old, or reminded him of the old, and of course, the parts that were new.

It wasn’t long before he heard Mrs. Hudson on the stairs, the sound of the tea service clinking with each step.  “Woo-hoo!”  She stopped in the doorway, taking in the sight of him sitting in his chair like always. 

He strode over to her, taking the tea set from her arms.  “Mrs. Hudson thank you for the tea.  Won’t you join me?”  He asked, even though he’d already noticed the second cup on the tray.  Then his eyes lit up at the sight of the biscuits she had brought.  “Are those ginger nuts?”

She chuckled at how much like a child he could be, and how much like a mother he made her feel.  Sitting in John’s chair she prepared her tea, then sat back to take in the finishing touches of 221B.

After making himself tea, he sat in his chair breathing in Baker Street once more.  He wrinkled his nose at the smell of sawdust and paint fumes that permeated the air.  It was while he was plotting how to steal one of Mycroft’s hidden illegal cigars to give Baker Street back it’s ambience that he heard Mrs. Hudson’s shriek.  “What is that?”  She was pointing to the smiley face, complete with bullet holes that he and John had added to the new wallpaper.

He smirked at her but without giving anything away he proclaimed, “I don’t know what you mean?  That has always been there.”

She leveled him with a glare, that he is sure she must have learned from his mother, before stating, “I’ll be taking that out of your rent, young man!” 

“Of course, Mrs. Hudson.”  He smiled back at her and wasn’t terribly surprised to see her smile back at him as well.

After a few more sips of tea, she observed, “Well this place is a right lot better than the last time you and I sat in it.”

He nodded, thinking back to that day……that day so long ago and yet almost like yesterday.  It had been his first time at Baker Street after the explosion of his flat, and the explosion of his life at Sherrinford. 

“Yes, it’s amazing what time and money can fix.”  He mused.

“And love.”  She added.

“Love?” He questioned.

She placed her tea cup on the tray between them.  “Yes, love young man.  You can’t tell me it was just time and money that caused you to scour the earth to find a replicate for John’s chair.”  She emphasized by patting the armrests.

“Well, we needed a chair there.”  He tried to play it off but she would not let it go.

“Of course, but then not just any chair would do, now would it?”  He kept his features neutral, not to give anything away.  “And don’t think I didn’t notice the small, yellow chair by the door just the right size for a certain petite pathologist we both know.”  She eyed him as she picked up her tea cup again.  Trying to hide behind his tea cup, he was unable to suppress a smile when she brought up Molly.

“So, I gather things are going well between you and her?”  She inquired while he tried not to choke on his tea.  Ignoring his efforts to divert her from the subject, she continued on, “We haven’t talk much since that day on the floor.”  She pointed her tea cup to that place they had sat taking in the devastation of his flat …and his life.  “But it seemed every time I saw you as if your burden had been getting lighter.  Sometimes you even smiled.”  Her eyes twinkled at him, reminding him so much of his own mum.

Putting his tea cup aside before he spilled it all over himself he brought his hands under his chin as he did when he was deep in thought.  “Mrs. Hudson, I owe you a great deal for all that you have done for me over the years.”  The long list for which he owed her was left unsaid but communicated through their eyes.  “But I could not be more grateful to you for encouraging me to do something that I was sure I could never do but has transformed my life in ways even I don’t comprehend.  So, thank you.”

Sherlock Holmes thanking her…it nearly brought her to tears but she knew he would not want that so she sniffed them back and said, “Your welcome.  Take care of each other.”

He nodded.  “We will.”

o0oOOo0o

He was brought back to the present with a text from Lestrade.  A possible seven, he’d texted.  ‘Hrrumph, not bloody likely.’  He thought to himself, texting back, “You know where to find me?”

Hearing fussing from the kitchen, he looked over to see Rosie slathered in strained carrots and pureed lamb.  By the looks of things, John didn’t fare much better.  As he walked into the kitchen, he laughed at the sight of them.  John gave him an exasperated look while Rosie just held up her arms for him to get her out of her seat.  He took off his jacket and placed it over the back of John’s chair, then rolled up his shirt sleeves before caving to her demands to be released from her seat.  “Come on Rosie, I think you need a bath.”  He gave John a look.  “and your daddy needs a break.”  John stood there wide-eyed as Sherlock Holmes took his daughter down the hall to give her a much-needed bath.  ‘Will miracles never cease?’

It was nearly thirty minutes later before he heard the squeals of his daughter coming closer.  He had tidied up the kitchen, made himself a cup of tea, and answered a few inquiries from the blog.  He was ready to be daddy again.

Turning in his chair, he saw Sherlock airplaning her down the hall, complete with sound effects.  “There’s your daddy!” He exclaimed as he plopped Rosie in his lap.  Sherlock then flopped into his leather chair, his legs spread in front of him, obviously worn out from an active toddler.

“She _can_ be exhausting.”  John said as he smiled sympathetically towards Sherlock.

Sherlock looked their way, watching as Rosie tried to grab his nose, and he made faces for her, causing her to squeal.  He smiled to himself wondering if children were possibly for _his_ future or if Rosie was all that they would have.

o0oOOo0o

It wasn’t long until Lestrade showed up with his touted ‘seven’.  It wasn’t but he took pity on him and solved it for him before he stomped back down the stairs.  He heard him talking with someone at the bottom of the stairs and deduced it to be Molly.  He’d missed her, even more than he knew he would.  Over the past eight weeks they had practically spent night and day together.  Even though, technically, it had only been eighteen hours since he last saw her; it had seemed much longer.

He waited until she came in through the doorway, a smile on her face, bubbling with excitement.  She’d stopped to take in all the changes.  “It looks good.”  But he no longer cared about the flat or the fact that John and Rosie were sitting there.  He strode quickly to her, pulling her into his arms, and crashing his mouth against hers.  Despite her surprise she seemed to have missed him as intensely.

Vaguely he thought he heard John make an excuse about changing Rosie’s nappy but couldn’t be sure.  As they parted for air, he rested his head against hers just drinking her in.  “Please don’t make me be apart from you this long again.”  He whined.

Chuckling at him, she admonished, “Sherlock it’s only been a day!”

“Eighteen hours and twenty-three minutes but that’s not the point.  The point is I missed you and I don’t like being away from you.”

Smiling back at him, she kissed him again.  “I don’t like being away from you either.”  When she stepped back she was surprised that the sitting room was empty.  “Where’d John and Rosie go?”

“Bedroom, nappy change …..where were we?”  He captured her lips in his and was snogging her again before he heard John returning to the room.

“Is it safe yet for children?”  He teased.

When Molly looked around Sherlock she saw he was covering her eyes causing Molly to blush.  “Rosie, sweetheart.”  She said as she came to her goddaughter taking her from John’s arms.  “Are you having a good time with daddy and Uncle Sherlock?”

“Da-da. Da-da da-da” was all the response she got.

Molly kept Rosie occupied while John and Sherlock sorted out the food and drinks with the caterers.  Angelo had insisted that he would bring Sherlock’s favorite pasta as soon as the dinner rush was over.  In the meantime, he had sent over a waiter and bartender to prepare for Baker Street’s Housewarming. 

It wasn’t long before Sherlock dropped in a huff next to Molly while she played peek-a-boo with Rosie.  “Oh dear, Rosie, it seems Uncle Sherlock is in a bit of a strop.”  Her tone teasing as she peeked at him from the side. 

Giving her a serious glare, he said, “I am not in a strop.  I can’t help it if so called ‘wait staff’ have no understanding of proper etiquette.”  He was so cute when he was mood, she leaned over kissing him on the cheek. 

Then without warning she plopped the blanket on his head that she and Rosie had been playing Peek-a-boo with.  Looking at Rosie she inquired, “Where’s Uncle Sherlock?  Where’d he go?”  Rosie took great delight in pulling the blanket revealing him.  Pointing at him she squealed then clapped her hands. 

When Molly looked his way again, the grump was gone.

o0oOOo0o

After the caterers were sorted, John took Rosie upstairs to change her into her ‘party dress’.  When Sherlock gave him a questioning look he answered, “Look she has a ton of dresses that she never gets to wear.  She might as well wear them before they don’t fit.”  Sherlock just smirked at him but said no more.  He wondered if he had a daughter if he would care about what she wore.  It was with that thought that he went into his bedroom to change his own clothes.

When he opened his bedroom door, Molly was still in her undergarments, just picking up her blue sleeveless dress with the pleated skirt.  Although he startled her she did not scream.  By now she was used to him coming and going in her bedroom while she dressed.  It would stand to reason he would do the same in his own. 

He watched as she slid the fabric over her arms, then turned silently asking him to zip her.  He paused after closing the clasp at her neck, his hands cascading down her arms, as he took a step closer feeling her warmth against him.  His lips grazed her neck as he took in her scent, needing to feel her, to taste her, as it had been far too long.  Her hands fumbled with the tie at her waist and soon his hands took it from her completing the task.  “I would much rather be taking this off of you instead of helping you on with it.” He whispered into her ear.  Her heart raced at how much she wanted him, and apparently, how much he wanted her.

The sounds of Mrs. Hudson fussing with the wait staff reminded them both that soon the flat would be filled with others, and they would prefer this to remain private.  Leaning into him, she turned her head whispering back, “Later, I promise.”

His smile ignited hers and she turned into his arms granting him a kiss.  All too soon she took a step back.  “I need to finish getting ready.”  His smile turned to a pout.  “I love you.”

Smiling again, he declared, “I love you too.”  Then gave her a thorough snog to last into the evening.  In a daze, she walked to the washroom to complete her makeup and hair.

o0oOOo0o

When Molly enters the sitting room, Sherlock is engaged in conversation with John, Rosie, and Mrs. Hudson.  It’s Mrs. Hudson who notices her first.  “Oh Molly, don’t you look lovely!”  She smiles at her while bringing her hands to her mouth.  Sherlock and John stop and turn to take her in but her eyes are only on Sherlock.  He grins then strides over to her, sliding his arm around her waist, and kissing her temple.  “You look beautiful, Molly.”  His heart soared when she beamed back at him.

Leading her to the kitchen he gets her a wine, and sneaks another kiss, this time on her lips.  She doesn’t seem to mind.  In the other room, they hear the sounds of Lestrade making his entrance.  When Sherlock comes out of the kitchen he sees he is not alone.  ‘Why did we have to invite Anderson and Donovan?’ He laments to himself.  At that moment, Molly laces her fingers through his and hisses in his ear, “Be nice.”  He rolls his eyes at the idea but for Molly he will do anything.

The evening unfolds much as expected.  Lestrade regaled them with case after case that usually ended up with Sherlock or John chasing someone all over London.  Anderson or Donovan would throw out a detail or two in an effort to appear clever.  

Angelo showed up with his signature dish just as everyone was getting hungry.  He, of course, had to tell everyone how Sherlock had gotten him off on a murder charge, again.  Molly thought, it was nice to see someone who appreciated Sherlock for what he did for them.  Not everyone was so grateful.  For some reason, her eyes fell on Sally Donovan.

The room went quiet when Mycroft crossed the threshold.  Surprising to everyone in the room, it was Sherlock who greeted him and offered him a brandy.  Taking their cue from Sherlock; they made an effort to be friendlier to his older brother, even Mrs. Hudson. 

Normally the man known to many as the British Government would only stay for a few moments, taking a few obligatory sips of whatever beverage he was offered.  But he was well into his second brandy when the investigator from Interpol arrived trying once more to get Sherlock to look into the Borgia Pearl case.  “Give it a rest, Ms. Hopkins.”  Mycroft spoke out, “tonight is for celebrating.”  All eyes went wide at his remarks, then converged on Sherlock for an explanation.  He just shrugged his shoulders and offered DI Hopkins a glass of wine.

Since officially she was off-duty, she decided why not.  Maybe this would get her on the Holmes boys good side to possibly curry favor in the future.  Sherlock couldn’t help but noticed how Sally’s demeanor changed when DI Stella Hopkins stopped by.  ‘Hmm, Anderson may have competition.’ He smirked to himself.

Despite himself, he was enjoying himself.  Having Molly by his side made anything more enjoyable.  However, there was only so much ‘conversation’ he could tolerate.  Squeezing her hand, she looked at him and he let her know that he loved her but needed to be by himself for a bit.  She nodded her understanding. 

He surprised her by not swanning off to his mind palace but by picking up his violin.  While looking over London, his London, he played ‘himself’.  In the past weeks, he had been composing music to share with Eurus, music that told the story of him.  With his friends and lover behind him, and his London laid out before him, he laid himself bare…..without them ever knowing.

o0oOOo0o

After everyone has buggered off, it is just him and Molly.  She begins to clean up the discarded dishes but he has very specific plans for her.  Coming up behind her, he slides his hands around her, taking the dishes from her hand and putting them back down.  With his mouth next to her ear, he confesses, “Molly for years, I have fantasized about making love to you in my bed.  Let’s see if reality holds up, shall we?”

She turns in his arms, surprise written across her face.  “Years?”

“Years!”  With his smoldering eyes, he leads her to his bed.

o0oOOo0o

In the after glow of making love he asks her, begs her really….. “move in with me?  Live here with me.”  He counters all of her arguments but is willing to accept that she needs to keep her flat, for now.  It’s hers, she worked hard for it and she needs that.  He can understand that….everyone needs a bolthole once in a while.  But for now, he relishes in the idea of falling to sleep with her every night and waking with her each morning.

 

The End or as some would say…. The Beginning

 

o0oOOo0o

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This past week has been most difficult. A storm has come into our lives and it would not leave. It did not leave until it dropped over 50 inches of rain in parts of Texas, USA. Luckily, my part only received 24 inches. I was also immensely lucky to not have water in my home, or a tornado rip through my roof.  
> It was scary, I won’t lie but I was lucky, so very lucky. Many others were not. I know you’ve seen the news. Please, if you can, open your heart and donate so that others can get their lives back.
> 
>  
> 
> https://www.redcross.org/donate/hurricane-harvey?scode=RSG00000E017&utm_campaign=Harvey&gclid=EAIaIQobChMI7b387bOF1gIVgnx-Ch1TnAmMEAAYASAAEgJcevD_BwE&gclsrc=aw.ds&dclid=CKPjiPCzhdYCFVSyTwodW1wFmg

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The rights and properties of all characters belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss, and the BBC.


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